Meet the Reeds
by The Libran Iniquity
Summary: [Cowritten with Sita Z, SLASH] Trip decides it's time to ask Malcolm's folks for his hand in marriage, and is surprised by what he finds there... Stuart's fine about it. His wife, on the other hand... [Epilogue posted, now COMPLETE]
1. Prologue

**Title**: Meet the Reeds

**Authors**: The Libran Iniquity and Sita Z _(Sita's author notes in italics)_

**Rating**: PG-13, or whatever they're calling it these days (yes, I'm bitter, and Sita says she's just confused)

**Disclaimer**: We had a little chat about this over dinner last night, and decided that since Paramount doesn't seem to want them anymore (mutter mutter), then we'd be more than happy to adopt Trip and Malcolm and share them equally and let Hoshi and T'Pol visit them some weekends.

_Or maybe just at Christmas_.

But until the adoption goes through (which would be a little weird, what with the ages gaps and everything...!), they're not ours. Just to make it clear ;)

**Authors' Notes**: _Okay, by looking at the title some of you may have noticed that it's "somewhat" similar to "Meet the Parents" (with Ben Stiller and Robert DeNiro), and yes, actually that was what we had in mind when we started writing this story_.

Speak for yourself, I'm just here for the ride.

_Okay, so that was what I had in mind, since I came up with the prologue –_

...Show-off.

_So what? I did! And you liked it._

...Well... okay, I'll give you that one.

_And you found the grammar mistakes!_

I think there was ONE. In the entire thing you showed me! Anyway, the rest was changing genders and... stuff...

_So, it's not like we're using this site to have an argument with each other –_

- we're just trying to show you what exactly goes into writing something like this together ;)

_ANYWAY... you might notice some intended similarities between the movie and this story_

...and yes, it's all deliberate!

_...and no, Stuart didn't get the Robert DeNiro part!_

Ah yes, one last thing. This is slash. We've literally just remembered this. Slash as in, Trip and Malcolm in a loving, committed relationship, and if this isn't your cup of tea, then I suggest you click the 'back' button now, you have now been warned.

_And yes, we put that at the end of an incredibly long author note to trick you into reading this story even if you don't like slash. Well, there's a first time for everything, right?_

Speak for yourself, I was corrupted from the start!

_Okay... let's get on with the story._

And don't forget to let us know what you think – might stop us arguing for a while! ;)

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Prologue**

"Alright. Do I have your attention?"

"Sure ya do, darlin'."

"There's no need to roll your eyes at me. I told you this was important, and..."

"I didn't roll my eyes at ya, darlin'. Well, okay, maybe I did, but ya really need to relax. It's not like she's goin' to try an' kill us or anythin'."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Oh, come on, honey! I know ya said she can be a little... anti-social at times, but I'm sure she's no psychopath. You're actin' like she's homicidal or somethin'."

"You have no idea. Anyway, first things first, you need to stop calling me that."

"Callin' ya what, darlin'?"

"That. 'Honey' and 'darling' and -"

"Sweetcheeks? Honeybunch? Sweetie-pie?"

"Exactly. And you can stop grinning right away. If she hears you calling me any of those things, she will most likely try and zap you. Mind you, if I ever hear you calling me 'sweetcheeks', I will, too."

"'Zap' me?"

"Oh yes. That's something she really is good at. Had at least one of her pupils in tears at any given moment."

"Oh."

"And you'd better remember it. No 'honey', no 'darling', nothing even remotely like that."

"Got it. Anythin' else?"

"What do you mean, anything else? I haven't even started yet."

"Darlin'..."

"Now listen up. As long as she is watching, you do not go gushy or mushy or anything else Ingrid Bergman would consider acceptable behaviour with a man. Basically, don't shove me up against the living room wall and snog me senseless. Trust me, she'd have a fit, and you'd have a cold night in the garden."

"Whoa, stop there for a minute. I thought you said they were gonna be fine about us."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Well, honey, ya know, it's jus' the kinda thing people do when they're in love with each other. I'm sure even your mom can understand that."

"And I hope you'll live long enough to discover otherwise. My mother is not the most understanding of people when it comes to anyone romantically interested in her offspring."

"I'm gettin' that impression."

"Good. There are a few things that she really likes talking about, such as her experiences with the military and all the years she's been struggling to get more all female military training academies introduced in the British Isles."

"Yeah... okay..."

"And please, I beg of you, don't mention the Billingham incident. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than that. 'Family confidentiality', you see. I did promise never to mention it to anyone outside the family. I'm only telling you that now because it happens to be one of her favourite topics of conversation at the family dinner table."

"Darlin', I'm afraid you kinda lost me somewhere along the way. You just told me that Billingham thing was secret..."

"She won't talk directly about it with you there."

"So, what? Your family's got their own code for things like that? Like, Reed X Blue 733?"

"Very funny. I'm just telling you it's to do with her old job."

"I'm not makin' fun of ya, darlin'. It's jus'... ya make this sound real bad. It's been what, six years since you last saw your parents? Things change, and maybe your mom's changed, too. I know ya said she can be a little... difficult, but I'm sure we can sort things out between the four of us. Don't worry."

"Just don't forget about the pet names, okay? She'll likely kill you on the spot."

"I won't forget. Sweetcheeks."

"Trip..."

"Sorry, Mal. I'll do my best, I promise."

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TBC...


	2. Chapter 1: I Predict a Riot

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: are somewhere in the prologue ;)

**Authors' Notes:** You wanna start first?

_No, you start. I started first last time._

Did you?

_Yes._

Fine. I can't be arsed to check, anyway... well, many thanks to Exploded Pen, Drakcir, Luna, Lieuten Keen, RoaringMice, Phaser Lady, purple perdi and Andrea for the fb and reviews, although I think I have to protest at the charges of corruption... or maybe not ;). So, anything you want to add now?

_Just want to say thank you myself and love you guys!_

Sheesh. On with the chapter... (and you definitely start next time!)

_OK._

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter One: I Predict a Riot**

It was an unusually sunny day in the south of England. The private shuttle came to a stop at the end of the street, next to a garden with a well-kept privet hedge down one side. As Trip opened the hatch on the side of the shuttle, he could see three people standing in the middle of the garden, obvious waiting for something - or someone. Well, two of them looked like they were waiting for something to happen; the third, the older woman standing slightly off to one side from the others, had a disdainful expression on her face, and her stance reminded Trip of one of the Vulcan ambassadors at the Consulate in San Francisco, the one who always looked at Trip like he'd just crawled straight out of a vat of something marked "Hazardous Waste".

He glanced at Malcolm as he let his partner jump out of the shuttle first; Malcolm was watching the older woman, and _his_ expression reminded Trip of the Vulcan ambassador's human aide, who walked the corridors of the Consulate with a perpetually terrified look on his face.

Trip shielded his eyes against the sun as he himself got out and landed on the grass. While he was getting the luggage out of the shuttle, with the help of the pilot, he was aware of Malcolm standing right next to him still, having not yet moved to greet his family. It seemed like strange behaviour to Trip; if it had been him with his family standing less than five metres away, he'd have bounded straight over and given his mom a huge hug. Seeing Malcolm's obvious nervousness, Trip sighed; he could tell already this was going to be a long two and a bit weeks. From the way things already seemed to be going, Trip could only hope that the 'bit' at the end there wasn't going to be too long.

The pilot nodded at Trip and Malcolm, closing the hatch at the same time, shutting the two men off from what was probably their last real means of escape. Trip watched the shuttle take off with a rather melancholy feeling in his gut. Definitely a long two and a bit weeks.

As Trip picked up the two suitcases they'd brought with them, Malcolm moved right up close to him. "If you still want to run..." he muttered into Trip's ear with the smallest of smirks. Trip just grinned back, trying not to let his own nervousness show, and motioned towards Malcolm's family with one of the cases.

Seeing the older woman's face growing even darker when she saw the two men turn towards her and begin walking, Trip wondered if running away might not be such a bad idea after all.

Trip noted that Madeleine was the first of the Reeds to do something that he himself recognised as actually being something that a family member would do. "Malcolm!" she called out, taking a few steps forward and pulling her brother into a tight hug.

Malcolm grunted his own greeting back, and eventually managed to extricate himself from her grip. "Hey... Dad," he said, somewhat awkwardly, moving towards his father and holding his hand out.

The ends of Stuart's eyes crinkled - probably his own version of a proper smile - and he took his son's hand and shook it firmly before pulling Malcolm into a half hug of his own. A second later he pulled back and looked critically at Malcolm. "You look... healthy," he managed.

"I've had worse days," Malcolm retorted dryly. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Well, now I know you're lying," Stuart replied in an equally dry tone, not missing a beat, and Trip got the impression that this was usual for the two Reeds, just light-heartedly teasing each other - well, the two male Reeds at least, as when Malcolm turned to his mother the good humour had all but vanished from his face.

"Hello, Mother," he said, the words sounding stiff in contrast to just a few seconds before.

Mary took her time in replying, which gave Trip a good few seconds to take in what she looked like. Malcolm's mother was easily taller than her husband, her grey-streaked hair pulled up into a tight bun at the back and dead centre of her head. Her face was very similar to Malcolm's, although where Malcolm usually looked fairly good-natured, Mary seemed harsher, more forbidding, and Trip could see the frown lines on her forehead. She was wearing a matching jacket and skirt that went down just past her knees, very smart looking stuff, the collar of the blouse underneath the jacket looked like it had been starched at a Vulcan laundrette. In fact, she looked like a female version of Soval, although with longer hair and without the pointy ears.

"Malcolm," she said shortly. Then, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your... friend?"

Malcolm sighed, and half turned to Trip, who by now had set the suitcases down by his feet. "Mother, Dad, Maddy, this... is... Commander Charles Tucker the Third."

Mary turned to Trip, her stare dropping a few degrees. Trip put on the biggest grin he could manage, but even though he couldn't see his own face, he knew it probably looked fake... and it might have been. He stuck out his own hand. "Nice to meetcha, ma'am."

Frowning, Mary shook the proffered hand, although she let go after less than a second, acting like she was afraid of catching something off him. "Indeed," she said.

There was an awkward moment of silence after that, which was soon broken by Madeleine. "Okay, come on, you two," she said to Trip and Malcolm, the smile on her face looking as forced as Trip's had probably just been, "Mother and Dad have set up one of the guest rooms for you. I'll, um, I'll show you to the room."

"I'm afraid we got rid of the double bed some time ago," Mary interjected, staring directly at Trip. "You'll have to make do with the twin beds."

In a quick effort to cover the next awkward moment, Madeleine glanced at Trip before redirecting her gaze to the house. Getting the unspoken message, Trip picked up the two suitcases again and followed Madeleine inside the house. Malcolm stayed behind, outside with his parents, and just as Trip got to the front door, he heard Malcolm say quietly, "Just give him a chance, Mother. Please."

Trip didn't hear Mary's reply - if there even was one. He quickened his pace behind Madeleine, wanting to get away from the pair of eyes he was suddenly certain were boring holes in the back on his shoulder blades.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

TBC...


	3. Chapter 2: Saturday Night

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: are still somewhere in the prologue.

**Authors Notes'**: _Oh, right... so I have to start this time?_

Well, I'm not saying anything!

_Okay, so this is where we introduce "Sebastian". If anyone wonders where we got his name from_

- just in case anybody was wondering ;)

_- this guy actually DOES exist, and his name actually IS Sebastian, but you wouldn't want to meet him!_

(And Thorne "just happens" to be the surname of my favourite fictional detective, so it's not all bad!)

_Thanks to everybody who left a review. The feedback's appreciated, and let us know what you think about Sebastian!_

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter Two: Saturday Night**

Dinner that evening was an awkward affair, to say the very least. As a child, Malcolm had never been too fond of the idea of the family gathering together to eat food and make stilted conversation, and right here and now wasn't faring much better. Although at least this time Mary wasn't constantly asking him questions about the A-level coursework he was supposed to have done several weeks early to make time for something connected to something else that Malcolm honestly couldn't have cared less about (although he would never have admitted so out loud).

Madeleine was the only person at the table really trying to make conversation; for lack of a better topic she'd taken to light chattering about the dinner Mary had prepared, some kind of stew with ingredients Trip didn't seem to like, judging by the amount of times he'd swirled his spoon around in the bowl instead of actually eating it. Or maybe it was just Mary's icy demeanour that was killing the family's appetites. Stuart's bowl was still half full, and Paul, Madeleine's husband, was the only exception in that he was nearly finished.

Without warning, Mary interrupted Madeleine's latest monologue about the vegetable patch in the back garden; she fixed Trip with a cold glare, giving Malcolm the distinct impression that up till now she'd simply been rehearsing her lines, ready for the main event.

"So, Mister Tucker," she began with short, clipped tones, "I'm to understand that you're an engineer?"

"Sure am," Trip replied with forced cheer. "S'always been somethin' I've enjoyed doin'."

"Really?" she asked, her tone implying _anything_ but curiosity at the answer. Her leap to the next question was so smooth that Malcolm was almost surprised. "So, where does that place you in the ship's command structure, exactly?"

"I'm line officer," Trip told her. "Third in command behind the cap'n an' sub-commander."

"Really?" Mary repeated, a little more sceptical this time, and Malcolm knew that she would not be happy with the idea of him seeing someone above him in a command structure - any command structure, really, since she didn't seem too impressed with Trip's high ranking on the _Enterprise_. "Stuart was a commander as well, when we first started seeing each other. Of course, I had a position equivalent to that rank at the time."

Malcolm wondered briefly if strangling his mother with the tablecloth might be an option. If she was trying to imply that he only form a relationship with someone of the same rank as him, then she clearly hadn't met any of the other four lieutenants on the _Enterprise_. Trip, meanwhile, seemed happy enough to try and keep the conversation going. "What were you doin' at the time?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you what I did," Mary replied coolly, and next to her both Madeleine and Paul rolled their eyes. "It's confidential."

"For crying out loud, woman, all you did was monitor radio broadcasts!" Stuart grunted. "Nobody cares any more!"

And if looks could kill, then Malcolm was certain that his father would be little more than a puddle of goo on the carpet. Madeleine snorted into her stew.

"Mother worked with the Royal Navy for several years," she explained. "She was a civil consultant in the communications department."

Mary did not seem at all happy with the direction the conversation had taken.

"At any rate," she continued, ignoring both her daughter and her husband, "I'd rather prefer we not go into details at the dinner table."

Things didn't get much better after the dinner plates had been cleared away. Stuart brought out the first tray of coffee, everyone by now having moved to the living room. There was a look in Trip's eyes that suggested that he wanted nothing more than to crawl onto Malcolm's lap, or vice versa, but they ended up sitting side by side on the sofa.

Halfway through her cup of coffee Mary decided that she wanted her stash of Garibaldi biscuits breaking into, and sent Malcolm out to do the honours. While he was in the kitchen, wrestling with the lid of the old tin, he heard Madeleine come in behind him.

"Mother's not changed, then, has she?" he said, getting one of the plates out of the cupboard.

Madeleine snorted. "She started early this time," she replied. "Remember Adam?"

Malcolm grinned, but said nothing. Adam had been one of Madeleine's first boyfriends, when she was in Year Twelve, and he was the captain of the sixth form rugby team. They'd been a good couple until she'd brought him home to meet the family - by this time, Malcolm was at university, but no less protective of his little sister. Mary, on the other hand, had held back for three hours before something had "gone wrong" and Adam had, quite literally, ended up on his arse in the back garden. He'd never really found out what exactly had happened for things to end up quite that badly, and if he was honest with himself, Malcolm really didn't want to know.

"Well, Trip seems nice enough," she continued, and Malcolm appreciated the fact that at least someone in his family openly liked his partner. He wasn't so sure about his father, but you never could tell what was going on with Stuart. The former Navy Admiral hadn't got the shotgun out yet - definitely a promising sign. But Malcolm knew full well that Mary Reed was the real obstacle in the way of family harmony and all that other sentimental sounding garbage. But seriously - there was hardly anybody in the universe that Mary considered to be good enough to be with her children.

"You know," Malcolm said suddenly, turning around, the plate of biscuits in his hand, "you never did tell me what hoops Paul jumped through to make it into the bosom of this family."

"And speaking of making it into the family," Madeleine said, neatly sidestepping her brother's question altogether, "guess who's coming to tea in a couple of nights?"

Ignoring the sudden seven-year-old tone of her voice, Malcolm instead focused on the important part of what she'd said. "Who's coming, and why do I not want to know?" he asked, a part of him now dreading what was possibly coming.

Madeleine pulled a face. "You remember Sebastian, don't you?" she asked him, now sounding faintly disgusted.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Would this be the Sebastian Thorne who, despite not being liked by either of us, me especially, has been able to retain his position in Mother's good books all these years?"

"I thought he was your friend," Madeleine frowned.

"He was," Malcolm allowed. "Until... things got in the way."

Madeleine nodded, and without saying anything - knowing she probably shouldn't say anything more, anyway, based on her brother's tone of voice - took the plate of biscuits from Malcolm and went back through to the living room, leaving Malcolm on his own and with just his thoughts for company. The unexpected mention of Sebastian - and the fact that he was actually going to be coming here - had sobered Malcolm's sudden burst of good humour.

It was all well and good making jokes about it, but there were some things that went deeper than a few dry remarks.

It had started out well, enough, really. Malcolm's first year of university hadn't exactly been buzzing with social events or friendships, which even he had to admit was partly his own fault. The first few months of the course, he'd been determined to keep on top of everything and all the assignments from the professors, to the extent that he did everything in the library except eat and use the toilet. And during a particularly thorough research project in the middle of February, Malcolm hadn't realised that the library was _that_ crowded until someone came and sat down at the same table as him.

_"Do you mind if I sit here?" a voice asked, jerking Malcolm out of thoughts of Gladstone and Disraeli and whatever argument they'd been having in 1884._

_Looking up, Malcolm was too startled by the interruption - or the fact that someone was speaking to him at all - to actually say anything back. Instead he took in the stranger's features. The young man sat opposite him was fairly tall, taller than Malcolm although that wasn't really saying anything. He had short cut dark brown hair and bright green eyes. He looked fairly skinny, but Malcolm couldn't really tell under the jumper he was wearing. And he didn't look like the kind of person who would talk to someone like Malcolm out of choice. Malcolm thought about that for a second. He was easily the shortest male student on campus. He didn't do a lot of field or team sports, and in his first week, he'd overheard some of the female postgrads describing him as 'dinky', which was not something he liked to hear in connection to himself._

_"I... um..." Malcolm was flustered. He hated that feeling, and secretly wished he could get back to the political bitching in the mid 1880's. But there was another part of him as well, somewhere inside him that was reluctantly pleased that someone other than one of the professors was talking to him._

_The stranger grinned. "I'll take that as a yes then, shall I?" he asked. Well aware that he now had Malcolm's full attention he stuck his hand out. "Hi, I'm Sebastian. Sebastian Thorne. You're Reed, right?"_

_Malcolm failed miserably to hide his surprise that again, someone other than one of the professors was actually aware of his existence in this place. "Most people call me Malcolm, though," he said, immediately feeling stupid._

_Sebastian didn't seem to have noticed this, though. "Malcolm it is, then," he replied. "Look," he continued without preamble. "A few of us from Hitchenson's lectures have decided to form a study group, try and get our heads around all this political mumbo jumbo. I was wondering if, um, if you'd like to... join us?"_

_Flustered all over again, Malcolm agreed before his brain got in gear and told his mouth to say no. But by then, it was too late. Sebastian had already given him a time and place - Friday at seven in one of the bars on campus - and vanished again, leaving Malcolm sitting there and wondering what had just happened, and what the hell he was going to say if someone asked him about anything other than nineteenth century politics in this bar on Friday._

The first meeting of the study group had gone quite well. There were five of them clustered in the corner of the student bar; for the first half hour they'd dutifully discussed the implications of Gladstone's second ministry in relation to the state of events in Europe and the Balkan states, and Malcolm had found he hadn't really cared when they'd diverted from politics and started up a competition to see who could best imitate Hitchenson's accent (Malcolm had won that by a mile).

Yeah, Sebastian had pretty much been Malcolm's only link to student life for the first couple of weeks in February until he'd started branching out and making friends for himself among the student population. At around the same time he'd started to notice that Sebastian would show up for lectures or social meetings in the evenings with different men in tow, usually keeping the same one around for no longer than a couple of weeks. Malcolm hadn't been entirely sure how to deal with his friend's attitude towards relationships and his apparent preference for casual sex. After a while Malcolm told himself to just focus on the other side of Sebastian, the side which was capable of discussing the politics courses for hours on end and making it funny at the same time, the side of him Malcolm considered to be one of, if not his best friend.

And it was this side of Sebastian that had turned out to be just a little different than what it had first seemed to be as far as Malcolm had been concerned.

_A knock on Malcolm's door brought him out of the world of _From a Buick 8_ and back into reality. He left the state troopers and their weirdly acting car to it, dropping the book on the bed, and going to open the door._

_He wasn't surprised to see Sebastian, however nervous looking, on the other side of the doorway. Although Malcolm could now count a good few people on campus as friends, Sebastian was the only one of them who could get away with showing up at Malcolm's door unannounced. Most people had learned the hard way that Malcolm didn't feel entirely comfortable with them randomly invading his private space, and knew to warn him beforehand if they were going to stop by his room for whatever reason._

_"Hey," Malcolm said. "Um, I wasn't expecting to see you here."_

_If it was possible, Sebastian now seemed more nervous; it took him a while to meet Malcolm's eyes and give him an awkward smile. "Um... are you busy?" he asked._

_"No, not at all." Malcolm opened the door wider. "You want to come in?"_

_Sebastian nodded, although his face and general demeanour screamed otherwise. He stepped past Malcolm and stopped in the centre of the room. He turned around on the spot, shifting slightly on his feet. He reached over and picked up the Stephen King book on the bed, studied the back cover for a second, then put it back on the bed. "Have you... got to the good bits yet?" he asked, evidently looking for something to actually say more than anything else._

_Malcolm frowned. "It takes a while to get to the good bits," he said slowly, now confused with what was going on. He was much more used to the Sebastian who strolled into his room, collapsed on the bed, stuck his feet up in the air and started telling Malcolm about their plans for the coming weekend._

_"Yeah," Sebastian nodded. "...I guess..."_

_Malcolm frowned again and took a step closer to his friend, closing the door behind him. "Are you okay?" he asked._

_Sebastian stared at him for a second. "Yeah!... well... maybe... not. No. We need to talk," he finished._

_By now Malcolm was seriously getting worried. "What about?"_

_"About you," Sebastian replied. "You and... me. You and me... us."_

_"What about us?" Malcolm asked, really confused now._

_Sebastian blushed. It was the first time Malcolm had seen him like that. "Well, I... I've been meaning to tell you for some time, don't really know why I haven't already, I..."_

_Malcolm took another step closer. "Is there something wrong? Are - are you in trouble?" he asked, concerned._

_"No!" Sebastian looked shocked. "Well... not really... might be, depends. I..." He took a deep breath. "Can I take you out for dinner on Saturday night?"_

_Malcolm stared at him for a moment. Things finally were making sense. And not in a good way, either. A small part of him was almost amazed that Sebastian would get this nervous over asking Malcolm on a date as opposed to the other men he'd been farting around with on campus, while another part of him really hadn't seen this one coming... and wasn't that happy about it, either. There were so many things going on in Malcolm's life, what with university, and trying to find out what he wanted to do with his life, that something like maybe starting out on a relationship with someone just hadn't occurred to him. And being put on the spot like that, Malcolm just said the first thing that came into his head._

_"I... look, I'm sorry, I just don't swing that way."_

_At that point in his life, Malcolm had no idea if he was telling the truth, or a lie, or anything like that._

_But it really didn't matter. Sebastian's reaction was... telling enough. He stared at Malcolm for a moment. "I... um, look, I'm sorry, shouldn't have asked you like that, um... sorry, I... goodnight." And with that, he left, leaving Malcolm staring at his bed, and wondering what the heck had just happened there._


	4. Chapter 3: What Did I Ever Give You?

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: still somewhere in the prologue.

**Authors' Notes**: La-di-da-di-da... what to say, what to say?

_Thank you again for reviewing!...Poor Trip, we're really giving him a hard time in this chapter._

Speak for yourself, I'm having a whale of a time at the moment!

_Well, that's the point of giving Trip a hard time!_

Sigh... truer words were never spoken. Unless we're talking about torturing Malcolm, of course. But there's always time for that, right?

_We'll just torture both of them; more fun for us._

Because we here at the weird hybrid of TLI and Sita Z Productions are proud of our anti-discrimination policy... we torture everyone equally.

_Except for Travis._

Who?

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter Three: What Did I Ever Give You?**

Sebastian Thorne turned the last corner into Chatsworth Road. The aircar made almost no noise as it zoomed three feet above the road, and when he got to number thirty seven Sebastian was careful with the parking - the car was a recent addition to his collection, and he didn't want to scratch the paintwork with something so mundane as someone's front garden in the early evening.

When he got out, he noted that very little had changed about the Reeds' house - not that he had expected it to. Mary Reed was waiting for him by the front door as he walked across the front garden, and she came towards him as he got even closer. "I'm so glad you were able to make it!" she declared, smiling and pulling him into a hug.

Sebastian hugged her back before pulling away. "It's good to see you too, Mary," he replied warmly. "How have things been?"

"Fine," she said, but Sebastian was interested to note a slight hitch in her tone. Okay, so she wasn't letting everything on right away, but he could live with that. For now. Right now, he was just happy that he was going to see Malcolm again. When she'd called him at the head office, Mary had taken her time telling Sebastian about her son's progress and achievements with Starfleet, and what he had been "up to", so to speak, with the weapons and such on Enterprise. Sebastian hadn't been too interested to hear most of the details, although he had realised that this "new" Malcolm seemed to be a lot different to the endearingly shy and retiring student who had made the History and Politics university course the main focus of his life. Then again, Sebastian wasn't surprised to hear about the changes in his Malcolm, since organisations like this new Starfleet were just the same as any other hierarchical militaristic establishment; just another assembly line of power mongering jerks. With the exception of Malcolm - of course... he couldn't have changed that much, surely.

"Well, why don't you come in?" Mary asked. "I was just about to serve dinner, the children will be delighted to see you again."

Sebastian smiled. "I hope so," he replied sincerely. "I have to admit, it's been a while since I've had a proper home cooked meal; we don't get a lot of time for that sort of thing in the boardroom. Usually I have to send one of the secretaries out for a take-away." He deliberately made a face of disgust, and Mary laughed.

"Oh, you poor dear," she told him. "You really had better come on in. I've got some roast meat ready to dish up."

"Brilliant!" Sebastian replied. "It sounds great." He held the front door open, and ushered Mary inside first in a show of gallantry.

She smiled back at him, then walked along to the end of the hallway and poked her head into one of the rooms. "Come on, be sociable, come say hello to our guest!"

Sebastian felt a nervous little flutter in his stomach then. Mary had made it quite clear to him that Malcolm would be there the night he arrived, and that he would be overjoyed to see him again. But even after more than fifteen years, there was bound to be some tension between the two of them, and Sebastian could only hope that it wouldn't be too great.

Stuart Reed was the first to first to emerge from the room, a scowl already set into his face. He had a newspaper tucked under one arm - probably wasn't appreciating the interruption - and held out a polite hand when he saw it was Sebastian standing in the middle of the hallway. Feeling nervous still, Sebastian shook the hand.

Next out was Madeleine and some bloke who could only have been her husband, judging by the fact he was there at all; Sebastian could more than remember getting the third degree treatment himself when he'd crashed at Malcolm's place one summer - Mary had only really begun to like him once she'd realised he wasn't romantically involved with either of her children.

Madeleine avoided speaking to Sebastian altogether, much like her father, although she did at least acknowledge his presence with a slight nod. She didn't look too pleased when Mary glared at her for a second; she stepped closer to Sebastian. "Hello," Madeleine said coolly. "This is Paul, my husband."

What a wet blanket. Paul was hovering behind his wife - however he did come forward at mention of his name, and held out a hand towards Sebastian. "Pleasure to meet you," he said, his Irish accent easily recognisable.

"Likewise," Sebastian replied, shaking the hand. He wondered to himself just how such a wet blanket had managed to get Mary's approval to marry her daughter. Well, maybe he was really invisible, and nobody had yet noticed.

Last - but by no means least in Sebastian's book - out came Malcolm. He looked almost the same as Sebastian remembered, although his hair was much shorter and less floppy than it had been in university, and Sebastian had to admit to himself that he quite liked the new look. His eyes widened a little when he saw Sebastian, and there was a spilt second of something unidentifiable on his face, but then it was gone and Malcolm was smiling, crossing the hallway. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked Sebastian light-heartedly, taking his hand.

Instead of shaking the hand, Sebastian pulled Malcolm into a hug, and didn't let go for several seconds. While he was hugging him, Sebastian realised that over the years Malcolm had developed more muscles. And although Malcolm didn't return the hug as enthusiastically as was hoped, Sebastian could still tell there was a definite strength lurking under the shirt. And Sebastian was beginning to find that he liked the new Malcolm more and more.

He finally let Malcolm go, although he kept his hands on the smaller man's shoulders. "I could ask exactly the same thing about you," he replied with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be up in outer space, blowing up aliens..." Okay, so it wasn't the wittiest remark he could have come up with, but he didn't think it was that bad. Maybe it was just his nervousness speaking at the moment.

Malcolm didn't smile at the comment, either. He looked behind him. "Trip? Are you coming?" Still looking at Malcolm, Sebastian didn't realise who or what Malcolm was talking to until another figure appeared at the edge of his vision.

Sebastian reluctantly tore his eyes off Malcolm and took a moment to study the newcomer. Scruffy looking dirty blond hair. The nose was easily the most prominent feature on his face, so upturned it was almost snout-like. His hands and lower arms were absolutely filthy, and the sleeves of his... ugh, what a disgusting shirt... were covered in black marks and smudges identical to the ones on his arms. And to add insult to injury, the jeans he was wearing were faded and looked old.

Malcolm beamed as he turned back to Sebastian. "Sebastian, I'd like you to meet Trip."

Well, that was a fitting name for someone if ever there was one. Sebastian blinked a couple of times, trying to think of something polite to say; after hesitating he settled for a mumbled, "Hello."

Trip beamed back at him, and held out a hand to him. Faintly, Sebastian looked at it. The hand was filthy, covered with what looked like machine oil. Trip seemed to notice that Sebastian wasn't exactly enthusiastic in shaking his hand, and inspected the hand closely. He looked abashed at all the dirt, and wiped both his hands down on the legs of his jeans. He offered a now clean hand to Sebastian. "Nice to meetcha," he said. "Sorry about the dirt, Paul and I were tryin' to fix Stuart's lawnmower."

Sebastian blinked again, trying to digest this sudden information - and with an accent like _that_! - and for the first time he wondered exactly who Trip was, why someone like him would be here in the same house as Mary Reed. He could only hope this Trip was some random handyman Mary had called in to fix the equipment. But... that couldn't have been the case, otherwise Malcolm wouldn't have been so enthusiastic about introducing him. "Right," he finally replied, carefully shaking the hand. He didn't want to get any lingering dirt on his suit, after all.

Malcolm seemed to notice Sebastian's confusion about Trip's general... presence... there, and - helpfully - said, "My partner."

And since Sebastian was almost certain that being in Starfleet left Malcolm no time to open a lawnmower fixing company, he could only assume that "partner" was intended in the... other... sense...

He glanced over at Mary, hoping the question was evident enough. _What's going on here?_ Mary hadn't said anything about Malcolm having anyone with him.

The look she gave him in response showed clearly that she didn't seem overly happy about Trip being there, either, and said out loud, "Everyone into the dining room - quickly, else this dinner is going to get cold."

Following everyone else into the dining room, Sebastian tried to wrap his mind around the idea of this bloke being Malcolm's boyfriend... it wasn't something he could easily imagine, and he privately wondered what had happened to Malcolm all these years to have him want to... well, to settle for someone like Trip. To settle for someone male, to be precise, as Sebastian could remember only too well what had happened in Malcolm's room at university all those years ago. What had happened to not swinging this side of the fence? Sebastian had to admit it did kind of hurt, especially when seeing Malcolm with someone so obviously not good enough for him.

It was a question still not answered when they sat down. Sebastian was in between Mary and the wet blanket, secretly relieved that he didn't have to sit next to _him_, who was unfortunately next to Malcolm on the other side of the table. Stuart and Madeleine brought in the dishes, Stuart still looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else than here. Mary didn't seem too happy either, although she smiled when she met Sebastian's eyes. Once all the dishes were out, Madeleine sat in between her brother and the wet blanket, and started to dish out the vegetables, while Stuart started to cut up the meat.

The first few minutes were quiet while everybody started eating, and Sebastian found himself secretly studying Trip and Malcolm in between bites. There was a familiarity between them that suggested they'd been like this for years, relaxed in each other's company and enjoying every moment of it. And Sebastian found he didn't like it one bit.

Mary was the first to speak. "So, what have you been up to with work recently?" she asked, looking directly at Sebastian as she asked the question. For a moment he was lost - Mary knew perfectly well what he had been up to - but then he noticed Mary's brief side-glance at Malcolm and Trip, and he realised that he was being set up here.

"Well," he began, careful to look at Mary so as not to let anyone know that his answer wasn't intended to come across as planned or rehearsed or anything like that, "we completed the takeover of the SPDC in the last three weeks."

Trip frowned. "The SPDC?" he asked.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and nodded. "The South Pacific Desalinisation Centre," he explained.

Trip frowned. "I knew that," he replied, his Southern accent almost as thick as Paul's Irish one, "it's just I gotta brother workin' with those guys. I thought they were resistin' any takeover bids."

"Well, they clearly didn't hold out for too long," Mary retorted.

Sebastian was surprised that this guy would know anything about desalinisation plants; he was even surprised Trip knew what the word meant, with an accent like that. "Well, it was hardly a challenge," he told Trip calmly. "Those guys in America were just crying out for strong leadership with that business of theirs."

Malcolm responded by raising his head sharply and glaring at Sebastian.

Trip, on the other hand, was decidedly calmer when he spoke. "Well, the guys down there didn't have any problems with the way my brother was runnin' things."

Instantly making the mental connection, Sebastian gave himself a second before replying. "So you're Michael Tucker's brother?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Trip smiled, ignoring the double insult in Sebastian's words, or maybe he was so dense he hadn't noticed it at all. "Sure am," he replied. "So how is Mike, anyway? He wasn't there when we went to visit my family."

"I wouldn't know," Sebastian replied coolly. "I've never met him." That was what he had all those employees for, after all. They took care of the actual details of the takeover bid - which in this case was a very good thing; Sebastian had no desire to meet any relatives of the lawnmower guy, even if it was said relative's company he was taking over. All Sebastian had done with the SPDC case was sign his name on the legal documents before returning to the suit fitting.

Trip faltered for a second, evidently trying to figure that one out for himself in his mind. Then he smiled again. "So, uh, how did you and Malcolm meet?" he asked, indicating first Sebastian, then Malcolm with his fork.

"New College, Oxford," Sebastian replied crisply, thinking to himself that it was more than probably the kind of place that the likes of Trip would never get to see from the inside.

Trip perked up a little at that. "Oxford?" he asked. "One of the oldest, I think. So, is that one older than Cambridge, or is it the other way around?"

Sebastian was lost for a second. He was a little surprised that Trip recognised the name of the university, much less that it - and Cambridge - were the two oldest English universities. And - Sebastian wasn't sure himself which of the two was the oldest. "They're almost as old as each other," he said vaguely. "And both are the best universities going."

For the first time, Sebastian realised that Malcolm was starting to get visibly angry. "The best universities this side of the Atlantic," Malcolm replied archly. He then calmed down a little and added, almost conversationally, "Trip graduated from Harvard with a full honours in Engineering."

Trip ducked his head, clearly embarrassed, whereas Mary just glared at Malcolm, before glancing briefly at Sebastian, who was rapidly getting the impression that serious battle lines were being drawn here, with himself and Trip being pitted as the opponents in the contest for... what? For Malcolm? And even so, Trip didn't seem to be aware that there was any potential competition at all; he just seemed to be open and friendly, and Sebastian didn't like it at all.

If he had to compete with someone like this, then he would much rather it was someone actually aware of the playing field being drawn out around his feet. And Sebastian had to admit that he would have preferred a worthier opponent than Mister Harvard over there, who had oil stains on the front of his shirt and most of the way down his arms, looking like someone who had just crawled out from underneath a misbehaving aircar.

A couple of seconds later, Mary looked over from glaring at her dinner, and her gaze softened. "Sebastian, how about after dinner you take Malcolm out for a bit of a walk, take him around the town and help him get reacquainted with the surroundings." She looked over at Trip, and the friendliness disappeared from her tone. "You and Paul can use the time to finish off whatever it was you were doing in the garden."

"Actually, Mother," Malcolm interrupted, now openly glaring at his mother, "don't you think it would be a good idea for Trip to come along as well? After all, he's not been to this part of the country before, it would make sense for him to get to know the area as well."

Mary opened her mouth to say something, but before she actually get a reply out, Trip was already speaking. "Actually, we'd just about finished before dinner," he told Mary cheerfully. "But the walk's a great idea, though." He looked over at Sebastian. "Ya sure you don't mind showin' us around? I'd love to see the places Malcolm terrorised as a kid," he finished, grinning widely, while Malcolm just poked him and smiled.

"Of course not," Sebastian replied calmly, even managing to smile a little, and Trip grinned back in response.

Sebastian frowned. He couldn't understand why Malcolm was playing along with Trip's poor excuse for a joke when his own joke about blowing aliens up had gone flat earlier. Well... maybe he did understand. After all, Sebastian would have had to be a complete idiot (and there was at least one of _those_ sitting opposite him at the table, covered in oil) not to have realised by now that Malcolm was very much in love with this man.

Obviously very deluded in being so, of course. And Sebastian could see that he definitely had his work cut out if he was going to go about changing that.


	5. Chapter 4: You Can Have It All

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: Guess. Go on, guess where they are ;)

**Authors' Notes**: Anyone figured out who Travis is yet? I mean, he never says anything on the show, I have a hard time picking him out from the wallpaper sometimes (!).

_...I really can't think of anything to say right now..._

Oh, admit it. He's wallpaper! And also thanks once more for the reviews, and enjoy the chapter!

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter Four: You Can Have It All**

"...And over there's where they've built the new town hall," Sebastian continued, and Trip tried not to laugh. It was so obvious even to him that Sebastian hadn't been to this town almost as long as Malcolm, if not considerably longer, and besides, the guy sounded like one of the tour guides in the Keys. Cheesy, falsely enthusiastic, and like they'd memorised all of the facts out of a book.

Malcolm didn't seem too interested, either, sparing the ugly building just a brief glance. Instead he looked further along the road, where there was a school-like building surrounded by a fence and some trees, a small playground just about visible behind all the greenery. Trip pointed at it. "Is that where you went, Mal?"

Malcolm nodded, smiling now. "Southeaton Road Primary," he answered softly. "Where they suffered me from four to eleven." He grinned. "I blew up my first toilet there, you know."

Trip stared at him. "Your first?" he asked, not entirely certain whether his partner was being serious or not. "You mean to say there were _more_?"

Malcolm just looked at him, and didn't bother to answer that one.

Sebastian, on the other hand, didn't seem to get the joke, and just looked annoyed at suddenly being excluded from the conversation. "Anyway," he continued loudly, in an effort to move things on somewhat, "the beach is right down at the end of the road and off to the left, and the other side of that's a new office block."

Privately Trip wondered about that last one, but let it go. The tour now clearly over, Sebastian turned back in the general direction of the Reeds' house. "So, Malcolm," he began, "have you heard from Hannah since university?"

As Malcolm began to think about the question, and start giving his own thoughts and whatever, Trip let the two of them walk slightly ahead him, making sure to give them a little space to catch up on everything. He couldn't really see why Sebastian and Malcolm had been such good friends at whatever point in their life - they were just so different, and from what Trip had been able to gather so far, Sebastian was the kind of guy that Malcolm normally hated, the kind of guy who would only go up and talk to someone or befriend them if there was something in it for him. But then again, maybe he was just reading too much into things here. For all he knew, Sebastian had probably just done very well with the family business or whatever, and he was simply trying to catch up on old times with an old friend.

What was worrying him a lot more, however, was the way Mary Reed had been treating him ever since it had been made clear that Trip and Malcolm were a couple - right from the moment they'd first met face to face, and even before that; the last letter she'd sent Malcolm before they got down to Earth had barely mentioned Trip at all, despite the fact that Malcolm had made it quite clear to his family exactly what Trip meant to him. Trip wasn't sure what he'd done wrong, it couldn't just be the fact that he was, well, different to the Reed family. Madeleine's husband was an engineer as well, after all; he and Trip both got their hands dirty in their jobs. And anyway, Stuart had seemed happy enough to take Trip up on his offer to fix the lawnmower last night, whereas Mary had screwed up her nose - probably at the idea of Trip offering to get his hands dirty doing whatever. It confused him because Mary didn't seem like the sort to look down on someone just because they worked with their hands; no, Trip decided, there was definitely something else here that he was missing.

What was slightly confusing to him was the way the Reed family - the mother in particular - had reacted to Trip compared to the way Trip's own parents had reacted to Malcolm when they'd gotten to Florida. Ann Tucker had squealed loudly and hugged both men, nearly suffocating them in the process, and the entire Tucker family had been there to greet them as well - three of Trip's four brothers and sisters, as well as two in-laws and too many children to count, almost. At times Malcolm had seemed almost intimidated by the hundreds of Tuckers - he obviously wasn't used to that kind of number of relatives in one place all at the same time - although after a few days he'd started to get used to it, and at one point even looked like he was enjoying the constant attentions of Trip's family, fussing over him and telling him embarrassing stories about his childhood; making it absolutely clear, if it was even needed by that point, that as far as they were concerned, Malcolm was already another Tucker.

And speaking of getting Malcolm into the family, that was part of the reason Trip was now willing to put up with Mary's odd behaviour, at least for the moment. Okay, so he'd tried to bring up the idea of marriage before, but Malcolm had always firmly, but gently, refuted the idea, his argument being that weren't they fine the way they were now. And it was part of Trip's forthcoming reasoning that if both the Tucker and Reed families seemed comfortable with the idea of them being together, and the partnership being long-term and unlikely to fall apart any time soon, then maybe Malcolm would relax and give the idea of marriage some more consideration.

He wanted to talk to Malcolm about it first of course, and maybe the man would be a little more relaxed in his family's house, but Trip was hoping - hoping! - that if/when Malcolm mellowed about the idea of getting married, then Trip could have Malcolm suggest the possibility to his parents. From the way things were looking now, however, Trip didn't even want to think about what Mary's reaction would be if he strolled up to her in the back garden or wherever and inquired about making an honest man out of their son.

At the rate things seemed to be going at the moment, if Trip did that then he probably wouldn't live to see _Enterprise_ leave dry dock again.

Trip looked up from his thoughts at that point, and in front of him he noticed Sebastian walking very close to Malcolm, touching his arm as he pointed out random local landmarks, at one point his hand lingering on Malcolm's shoulder longer than was strictly necessary. There was something about Sebastian's behaviour that was seriously starting to get to Trip, although he couldn't quite put his finger on why it was bothering him, or even what it was in the first place. It was just a feeling. Nevertheless, he decided to do something about it. Quickening his pace, he caught up easily with the two men, and slipped his arm around Malcolm's waist.

"Hey, Trip," Malcolm smiled.

Behind Malcolm's shoulder, Trip could see Sebastian frowning.

And when Malcolm slipped his own arm back around Trip's waist, Trip could see the frown on Sebastian's face deepen, and he began to seriously wonder just what was going on here.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

TBC...


	6. Chapter 5: Everyday I Love You Less

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: See prologue.

**Authors' Notes**: _Thanks for reviewing! And... ha ha, now we start the Malcolm torture_

, and I've got the popcorn and front-row seats all ready!

_If you don't hate Sebastian already, you will by the end of this chapter._

What she said.

_We've been... discussing if Sebastian is simply evil to the core, or actually has some redeeming features, just let us know what you think!_

But before any of that, we'd like to share a little story with you.

_But before any of that, we'd just like to say to the elderly couple on the train that we appreciate their interest..._

Let me explain. We began this chapter on a train, and there was this elderly couple sitting opposite us, and both of them seemed more than just a little interested in the two of us giggling about Malcolm in the shower and how much of a git Sebastian really was.

_So if they do read this,_

, which is unlikely...

_Yeah, very unlikely... anyway, if they do read this, yes Sebastian isn't a girl,_

, and you got off the train before we got to the sleeping Trip part, which is probably a good thing!

_Or just your loss._

It all depends, really ;)

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter Five: Everyday I Love You Less and Less**

When Malcolm woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of someone quietly snoring. Early morning sunlight was coming through the half opened window, and Malcolm was feeling strangely awake considering that it was only five am, according to the clock on the wall.

Lying in Trip's arms, it was a simple matter for Malcolm to slip out of the bed without waking his partner. Natural... urges took over, and Malcolm made straight for the small bathroom. He quickly relieved himself, and then shut the bathroom door, so as not to wake Trip. He stepped into the shower, and as the water began to pummel against his back, he closed his eyes. He hadn't felt this weary in a long time - probably because in the two weeks' shore leave they'd had so far there hadn't been any emergencies in the armoury demanding his attention every fifteen minutes. And Malcolm doubted there would be any in the remaining week and a half of leave, either. Although... there was still the idea of his mother; Malcolm had hoped that Mary might have mellowed in the years since he'd last seen her, but she was now proving to be just as trying as ever. And this time it was really getting to him. It wasn't that he hadn't minded her behaviour all the times in the past that Malcolm had brought someone home to "meet the Reeds", as it were (well, there hadn't even been that large a number of people Malcolm had ever been that serious about, but still... it was the principle!), but this time, with Trip, even though Mary hadn't changed it really did feel as though she was getting worse.

Trip seemed to be taking it all in his stride, though, which was at least a partial comfort to Malcolm. What he couldn't understand, however, was exactly why Sebastian had been invited back here. He knew that Mary knew that both he and Madeleine had no real desire to see Sebastian again if they could at all help it. And even though she didn't know the specific reasons behind that particular decision it was still no excuse for Mary to invite him along.

What made things even worse was that Sebastian had spent the last two days blatantly coming onto Malcolm in full view of everyone in the family, including Trip. Malcolm couldn't quite understand just how anybody could be that obtuse; after all, Sebastian had been told - very clearly - that Trip and Malcolm were together. Under any other circumstances Malcolm would have been able to deal with that kind of behaviour from someone, but he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to tolerate Sebastian so clearly treating Trip like he was something not particularly pleasant on the underside of his shoe. Mary had only been partly right, Malcolm thought, recalling a conversation from the previous day. Sebastian _had_ changed since Malcolm had last seen him - but it wasn't for the better. This snobbish, appearance-obsessed, arrogant prick wasn't exactly the Sebastian Thorne who had sat down at Malcolm's table in the university library all those years ago and decided that they were going to be friends, but he was close, and maybe that was the most worrying thing of all. Suited Sebastian wasn't identical to Student Sebastian, but instead seemed like a more grown-up version of him. Although, Malcolm privately amended, in this particular case, "grown-up" could well apply only to waistline and haircut.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Malcolm shut off the water and got out of the shower. Towelled himself dry before too much water got everywhere, slipped back into the bedroom and quietly got dressed.

As Malcolm pulled his shirt over his head, his gaze came to rest on Trip's sleeping form. Sprawled out on his front on the middle of the bed, Trip had rolled right into a patch of bright sunlight, and reminded Malcolm of a big cat, except that cats didn't make that weird squeaking noise when they breathed back out again. The clock on the wall said five thirty, and Malcolm decided that it would probably be better if he let Trip sleep; after all, they were on leave, and Malcolm, maybe more than anyone, knew what would happen if his partner didn't get enough sleep.

Still keeping as quiet as possible, Malcolm left the bedroom and shut the door carefully. He padded downstairs to the kitchen. Everyone else in the house was still fast asleep, judging by the total lack of other sound, except for the two seagulls having a fight on the roof, but they didn't count. When he got to the kitchen, Malcolm went to the cupboard where he thought the coffee might have been, and was most surprised to find it there. But maybe not so surprised after all - his mother was the kind of person who seemed to actively resist change of any kind.

Malcolm set about making some coffee, also making sure to leave plenty in the pot for anyone else who chose to come downstairs this early in the morning. Poured himself a mug and moved out into the garden. He sat down at the battered garden table, letting his eyes wander across the neatly cultivated flowerbeds and expanses of grass. His gaze stopped at one corner of the garden, and he grinned. Stuart had done such a great job with the restoration, that someone would never guess that that particular corner of the garden was where seven year old Malcolm's firework "project" had gone not quite according to plan - but at least Maddy had enjoyed the light show. The family's physician hadn't agreed with her, though, when he'd been left with the job of "restoring" Malcolm.

Something moving behind him caught his attention then, and Malcolm kept quiet, tracking the noise and paying attention. Slowly the source of the disturbance got closer and closer, until it was no more than a metre behind Malcolm's back.

He decided then would be a good time to act, trying at the same time not to let his annoyance show. "Good morning Sebastian."

The sound of sputtering. "How did you know it was me?"

Malcolm scowled, knowing it wouldn't be seen. "It's in the job description," he replied dryly.

Sebastian came around the table and sat down opposite Malcolm. He was frowning.

Malcolm regarded him for a couple of seconds. "You're up early," he remarked.

"So are you," Sebastian replied, raising an eyebrow.

And what an intelligent yet oh so utterly pointless conversation this was for two Oxford graduates to be having, one of the more sarcastic voices in Malcolm's head decided. Malcolm ignored it.

"So, um... what are you doing up this early?" Sebastian asked him, after a few seconds' lull in the "conversation".

"Never been able to sleep when the sun's been up," Malcolm replied quietly. Well, it was the truth, however dumb it sounded.

Sebastian didn't appear to think the comment dumb. In fact, he didn't seem to have been listening to Malcolm's answer at all - he'd just been sitting there, fidgeting more and more with the mug, and jiggling one of his legs about to the side of the table.

Malcolm peered at him. "Are you alright?" he asked, more out of habit than actual concern.

Sebastian's head jerked up so quickly that the tactician in Malcolm quickly grew suspicious. It was almost as if Sebastian had been waiting to be asked a question like that; his answer only confirmed Lieutenant Commander Reed's suspicions. "Yes! Well... maybe... sort of... not. I don't think so, no."

Malcolm _really_ didn't want to continue this conversation anymore, but once again the decision appeared to have been taken out of his hands.

"We go back a long way, don't we, Malcolm?"

Malcolm tried not to openly frown. "Well... yes..." he replied.

Sebastian leaned a little closer to him over the table. "I've been missing you," he said softly, giving off the distinct impression that he was launching into a carefully scripted and well rehearsed speech.

Unconsciously Malcolm leaned a little further away from the table. He had the strong urge to get up right here and now, and go straight upstairs and back into bed, and see if he could get away with claiming never to have left the bedroom in the first place. "Really?" he asked, at a complete loss for anything else to say. After that he felt he really should do the polite thing and say something else, so he added, "Well, I suppose it has been a while since we've seen each other."

"It's been too long," Sebastian replied, with something that looked dangerously close to a pout. Before Malcolm could do anything, he got up off his chair and moved around the table, coming to sit down right next to the armoury officer. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he confessed quietly.

Really? It had been hard enough for Malcolm to _start_ thinking about Sebastian, never mind stop the bloody process. Instead of replying straight away, he let his eyes drop a few inches, and saw... _Why is his knee touching mine?_ He raised his head again, looking at Sebastian, and during the split second he was trying to think of something to actually say out loud, he was completely unprepared for what the other man did next.

Sebastian leaned forwards, and kissed him.

Malcolm pulled away instantly, raising his hands up in front of him when Sebastian tried to lean in closer still. "Don't," he said. "Look, I'm sorry, Sebastian, but... just don't."

Sebastian looked hurt. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, 'What do I mean'?" Malcolm repeated, barely managing to keep his voice calm. "You know perfectly well what's going on here - _who_ I'm here with."

Sebastian frowned. "Malcolm, I know you can't be serious about that guy," he said sincerely.

Malcolm could get the sincerity and honesty in that sentence - Sebastian actually seemed concerned when he'd said it. He frowned. "Sebastian," he began, "I don't think I've ever been more serious about anyone in my life."

"He's not right for you!" Sebastian argued.

Stunned into silence, Malcolm got up from the table. He briefly considered retaliating somehow - _What? And you think you _are_ right for me?_ - but it was six am, arguments just weren't suited to this time of the morning. Besides, Malcolm didn't like actively provoking confrontations at the best of times - and now was _not_ one of the best of times. Ignoring Sebastian's half pleading-half angry expression, he turned and went back inside the house, taking his still-full mug of coffee with him. He didn't look back.

Sebastian watched him leave. For a moment he considered getting up and following Malcolm, but in the end decided not to. He knew Malcolm probably better than anyone - including that lawnmower-fixing American back there - and right now he knew that Malcolm wouldn't want to speak to anyone, even Sebastian himself.

Well. This hadn't gone quite according to how he had planned it. Instead of being out here in the garden early in the morning with Malcolm - _with_ Malcolm - he was instead out in the garden early in the morning, on his own, with a mug of coffee he didn't even like drinking, and staring at a crappy coastal sunrise.

He wasn't quite sure what to do now. When Mary had contacted him at the head office in London, she had made it very clear to him that in her eyes, he had the go-ahead to try and make things work with Malcolm - her boy, as she'd referred to him over the video link. The only problem was that Malcolm and his mother appeared to have differing views on that matter.

Sebastian could well understand why Malcolm would be attracted to the likes of Trip Tucker - attracted to his _looks_, to be more precise. There was very little physically wrong with the man, at least. But he had never known Malcolm to be someone who only went for looks. Then again, he had never known Malcolm to be someone who went for anyone at all, and this new habit of his - actually being with someone - didn't work with Sebastian at all.

He'd been smitten with Malcolm from the start. The quiet, reclusive eighteen year old who'd stepped into Hitchenson's politics lecture that first day, and had surprised the professor by knowing almost as much as she did about the Gladstone-Disraeli years had caught Sebastian's eye, and kept it hooked for those first few weeks of university. Eventually it got to the point where Sebastian had known virtually everything about this enigma - which building his dorm was in, which lectures he attended, what he ate in the cafeterias - everything, really, except for his first name. Hitchenson called him Reed, which couldn't have been the guy's given name, since as far as she was concerned, Claire was McCready, Greg was Deaven and Sebastian himself was Thorne. He'd only found out what Reed's first name was that day in the university library.

Sebastian could remember spending days physically working up the courage to go and talk to the guy outside of lectures - or even at all, since Reed had seemed to shun all human contact, except for Hitchenson; he and the professor had had some weird rapport going over Disraeli's social policy.

When he'd finally got himself over to the history section and sat down at the same table as Reed - Malcolm, as the guy had so endearingly introduced himself - Sebastian had found that his mouth had taken over and started running away with him. He'd heard himself propose Malcolm join this study group that had been put together, only to end up mentally swearing at himself because there _was_ no study group.

The next three days had been spent frantically rushing around, talking to anyone who might even have been remotely interested in spending Friday evening in a bar and actually discussing politics when there was no physical need to. Unsurprisingly, it had proved difficult, and in the end he'd had to bribe Claire, and Greg, and a few of the others as well, into showing up at the allotted time. That Friday evening had proven expensive in more ways than one, but in Sebastian's eyes it had been more than worth it. Malcolm _had_ shown up, and after a little awkwardness had gotten into the flow of things and was surprisingly enthusiastic when Claire started trying to imitate Hitchenson's Lancashire accent for the amusement of everyone else. At that point Sebastian had discovered that not only did Malcolm possess a sense of humour, but that it was a devilishly wicked one to boot. And it was later on that night, recalling Malcolm delivering a pitch perfect parody of the Politics professor that Sebastian had realised that he was beginning to really fall for Malcolm. And a few weeks later when Malcolm had suggested that Sebastian come home with him for a week of the Easter break to meet the family and do some cycling in the local hills?

Yep, that was when Sebastian had realised that he was in love with Malcolm, and had been ever since.

Without looking at it, Sebastian lifted the now cold mug of coffee off the table and poured it into one of the potted plants next to his chair. He got up and looked up at the window of the bedroom where Malcolm had undoubtedly returned.

All it was going to take was a little time and persuasion for Malcolm to realise that Trip just wasn't right for him - because he _wasn't_ - and anyway, Sebastian wasn't the type to just give up at the first hurdle. It was that kind of thinking that got you slaughtered at the boardroom table - and besides, faint heart never won fair Malcolm.

A little time. A little persuasion. Sebastian could do that.

He tucked his chair back in under the table and walked back inside the house.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

TBC...


	7. Chapter 6: Team Mate

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: have been chucked in the back garden along with the fairies and the tree my mother insists is called Trevor (yes, sadly, that is true...)

**Authors' Notes**: Once again, I thank you, on behalf of my co-author also, for the reviews folks have left for us so far... and as for the enquiry about blown up starship toilets, I can only suggest you go and check how many replacement loos have been ordered by the _Enterprise_ crew during the 5 year mission ;) Now... Half naked men in swimming trunks, anyone?... Mind out of the gutter, Hannah! although I do think those binoculars were mine!

_Just a pity that it wasn't Malcolm (and I think Hannah agrees with me on that one) _

ANYWAY... They've got those artificial beaches up and running in the centre of Paris at the moment, on the Seine river, Malcolm should be fine going somewhere like that.

_(is thinking of Malcolm and Trip in swimsuits and isn't paying attention to anything Libra is saying...) _

Sigh. I'll be right back, folks, gotta get me a hosepipe... get one yourselves, while we're on the subject. She's dangerous when she gets like this ;)

_(swoons...) _

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter Six: Team Mate**

Breakfast was a mostly subdued affair. Trip, who was more than used to any number of family members reaching over and around each other to grab toast from the centre of the table before it disappeared altogether, was a little bemused by what a stiff "ceremony" the Reeds seemed to employ for the morning meal. The only thing that was missing was a butler standing at attention behind Mary's chair, otherwise the whole "little England" picture would have been complete. Thinking of breakfast from his own childhood, when it had been common for Michael or Lizzie to fall off their chairs, or for himself to knock something over on the supposedly antique tablecloth, Trip found himself hardly daring to make any extended form of movement, lest he bring any more wrath of Mrs Reed down on him.

Sebastian, of course, looked fully at home, sitting next to Mary, leaning back in his chair and casually asking Stuart to pass him the butter. Trip had also noticed that for some reason, Malcolm was even quieter than normal in front of his parents, but he didn't want to push the issue, however existent it may or may not have been, until the two of them had a little more privacy from everyone else.

Hidden behind a copy of the _Telegraph_, Stuart's voice piped up, "I saw all those kids out with their surfboards on the way back from the newsagents this morning. Surfing - at eight in the morning!"

Mary rolled her eyes, and the other side of her Sebastian chuckled. "You used to do a lot of surfing while you were at university, didn't you Sebastian?" she asked him.

He ducked his head, almost modestly. "Well, I was out there most summers," he replied. "Although not so much recently."

"Really?" Trip asked, his interest now piqued. Sebastian hadn't seemed like the kind of guy who would even look twice at a surfboard, let alone know how to use one. "I used ta do that all the time, back in the Keys," he grinned.

At first, Sebastian looked a little annoyed, but then he made what looked like a visible effort to put a smile on his face. "Well," he began, "there's a small beach about a mile down the coast, always been a good one for surfing." He paused for a moment, then continued as if the idea - whatever it was - had just occurred to him. "I can make a few calls, get some of my own equipment sent over, how about the two of us try the waves."

Surprised, Malcolm looked up from eyeballing his coffee. He looked over at Sebastian, but before he could say anything, Mary intervened. "Why don't you go along as well, Malcolm?" she asked brightly. "Keep Sebastian company?"

Malcolm scowled at her, strongly reminding Trip of the senior male Reed still hidden behind the morning's headlines. "I think I'll pass on that one, _Mother_," he replied coolly.

"Well, if you're not goin'," Trip started to say, beginning to get scared here. He hadn't agreed to anything yet, and already plans involving him were being made without his consent.

"Nonsense," Malcolm replied firmly - and sincerely - although he too looked a little concerned, although Trip was the only person at the table who picked up on that. "I know how much you enjoy that stupid sport of yours," he added with a dry grin, "you may as well get some done while the going's good."

Neither Mary nor Sebastian looked too happy with Malcolm's... choice of words, although they both kept silent.

"Malcolm," Stuart's voice floated out from behind the paper again. A second later he actually put his paper down and looked around at the group of seated people for the first time that morning, before turning back to Malcolm. "I could actually do with you coming along with me this morning. I've been thinking about replacing the computer in the study, and those sales people up in London talk nothing but technical nonsense at you. I'd appreciate you being there, you'll know what they're talking about."

Malcolm actually looked quite pleased at the idea of spending some time alone with his dad. "Sure," he replied, smiling.

And in Trip's opinion, that pretty much signed and sealed the morning. He wasn't going to argue against Malcolm and his dad spending some time together away from Mary, and being honest with himself, he really didn't have anything to say against Sebastian, other than he was a little too touchy-feely with Malcolm for Trip's own liking; surfing would be great, could be a whole lot of fun, and maybe doing it this way would let Trip get to know Malcolm's friend a little better.

By now, the only person at the table who looked seriously unhappy was Mary. She looked over at her husband. "Are you absolutely certain that needs to be done _today_?" she asked.

Stuart smirked, strongly reminding Trip of the junior male Reed. "Of course, dear," he replied sarcastically. "After all, last time I tried to call Archie to get the tennis matches, I was put through on audio to a rather charming couple from Venezuela, who tried to enquire as to whether or not I was taking good enough care of their eldest daughter before she gave birth."

Malcolm snorted through a mouthful of coffee and Trip tried not to grin too much. Mary, on the other hand, looked decidedly sour. "Well, if you insist, dear," she replied coolly, "then by all means, go ahead."

"No need to tell me, I've already got an appointment with the sales people booked for myself and Malcolm," Stuart replied, having returned to the paper while his wife was speaking.

Mary settled for scowling at the business section on the back page of the _Telegraph_. "At least make sure you're back in time for lunch," she said, the comment aimed at son rather than husband.

"So, is that everything settled, then?" Sebastian asked, pushing himself away from the table. He looked at Mary before he stood up. "I just need to call one of the secretaries to get the surfing equipment delivered down here. Do you mind if I use your computer?"

"You'll want to mind how hard you push the buttons on the left side of the screen," Stuart replied from behind the newspaper, and again Malcolm grinned.

Finally getting up from the table, Sebastian shot Malcolm a rather strange look before disappearing in the direction of Stuart's small study. Trip didn't know what to make of it, and from a quick glance to his left, neither did Malcolm. But then again, it was probably just that all of this strange, decidedly English behaviour was beginning to do strange things to his head.

Whatever. Trip bent back down over his breakfast, already resolved to have fun this morning. And he still had to talk to Malcolm about what was going on between him and Sebastian, because there was something going on there that was Malcolm retreat so far inside himself like this.

o o o o o

Malcolm had been right, Trip realised. The beach was packed. He didn't mind that much, though, although next to him Sebastian looked slightly annoyed with the constant backdrop of screaming children and dogs running around.

Sebastian's "equipment" had just been brought down to the beach by a beleaguered looking youngish man, who Trip realised was probably one of Sebastian's employees, whatever it was he did that required more than one secretary and a stick shoved firmly up his ass. Trip had had to really fight to bite back a comment about the two surfboards, both of which looked as if they had never been anywhere near an ocean. But he had already decided to make an effort to try and get along with Sebastian, especially since the man appeared to be making motions of friendship of his own in the first place, with the surfing invitation and offering to supply equipment. Okay, so the man was still acting arrogantly, but maybe that was just the businessman in him. Either way Trip let it slide as he rolled out a (pristine) towel and left his shoes on top of it to stop it being blown away or anything else happening to it.

He'd already stripped down to his swimming trunks, which had - for some reason - drawn a strange look from Sebastian. Trip couldn't understand it. His mom had always told him he looked good in Hawaiian trunks. And anyway, who wanted to be dull and boring like Mister Stiff-Ass next to him, wearing plain Speedos?

Once they were both ready, Sebastian stood back up, surfboard in hand, and looked at Trip. "You said you spent all those years surfing in Florida - I assume you know the basics."

Trip bristled at the tone of voice. "Well, yeah," he replied, picking up the surfboard he'd been given. "Eight of those nine years, I was the instructor."

"Really?" Sebastian replied in the kind of tone of voice that suggested he was no longer interested in this topic of conversation.

"Shall we hit the water, then?" Trip asked brightly, mentally pleased to have scored a point against the dour Englishman.

It soon turned out both men were equally good with a surfboard, and they spent maybe half an hour out in the deeper water, catching some of the larger waves. Trip was really beginning to enjoy himself; the only thing that was missing was Malcolm. All he would have had to have been doing was just sit up with the towels, maybe reading a book or even just sunbathing, and Trip's morning would have been complete. As it was, however, he had to make do with Sebastian - and the small group of women right down by the shoreline, at least one of whom was tracking the two men with a pair of binoculars.

After a while, Sebastian paddled over to where Trip was watching the waves come in, and suggested they head back to the beach. In agreement with the idea, he followed him back to the shoreline. They got off the boards and stood up on the sandy surface under the water. One of the women who'd been using the binoculars wolf-whistled at the two of them as Sebastian walked past, but he ignored her completely. Instead he turned back to Trip. "You want a drink of something?" he asked, indicating a small cafe at the top of the beach.

"Somethin' cold would be great," Trip called back, grinning at the group of women as he walked past them himself.

Sebastian went straight for the cafe, not even stopping to dry himself off as he dumped the surfboard with their stuff. For his part, Trip was a lot more respectful of "his" board as he laid it down next to his towel, before sitting down and taking a good look around the beach.

Trip wasn't sure what was to blame for Sebastian's sudden change of mind regarding himself, and the man didn't really seem all that repulsive anymore. Trip sighed, and shook his head. He was never going to understand English people - including Malcolm, but Trip had decided a long time ago he would be more than willing to spend the rest of his life figuring _that_ man out.

A few minutes later Sebastian returned with a couple of cold cans of soda. He gave one of them to Trip before sitting down himself. "Thanks," Trip replied, grinning. Opening the can, he wondered if it would be worth asking Sebastian how much he owed him for the drink, before scrapping the idea altogether. Maybe he could get the two of them something later when they left to go home.

"You really are good on one of those things," Sebastian said after a short while, looking out at the ocean rather than at Trip. "Do you do any other water sports?"

Trip nodded. "I did a divin' course during my first few years of Starfleet, but I guess I've been doin' that all my life, you know, takin' Lizzie and Mike to the beach at weekends or durin' summer vacation."

Sebastian frowned. He finally looked over at Trip. "Lizzie and Mike?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Trip replied, nodding. "Well, Michael and Elizabeth. They're my younger brother an' sister. I'm the middle kid, an' Belinda an' Andrew are the oldest."

Sebastian frowned, saying nothing.

Catching the look, Trip regarded him for a moment. "You got any brothers or sisters?" he asked.

"Just the one," Sebastian replied. "Alistair's eight years younger than me. Miserable little brat, I hated having to look after him," he added, laughing.

Trip didn't get the joke, although he found a smile from somewhere, pulling a face at the same time. He was only four years older than Lizzie, and two older than Michael, but he'd always loved doing things with them, and keeping an eye on them to make it a little bit easier for his mom when all five of the kids were off from school. Then again, he and Lindy had probably done so much of the little sibling caring thing because their mom would kick them all out of the house for the whole day, and Andy would go straight off to his girlfriend's house, leaving Lindy and Trip to cope with the youngest two Tuckers. But even so, Trip could never imagine describing something like that as a chore, or talking about any of his brothers or sisters in the way that Sebastian had just talked about his brother.

Sebastian apparently sensed that his joke had fallen flat on its face; he was quick to change topic altogether. "So... this is your first time visiting England, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Trip nodded. "I've been to Ireland before, guess this is my first time visitin' the mainland."

"I've been to Florida a few times in the past," Sebastian replied. "There was this small cafe I remember, on one of the Keys, they did the most amazing Thai food. Do you know if it's still there?"

"You mean the one run by the Mexican couple?" Trip asked.

"Yeah!" Sebastian replied, grinning now. "I took one of my boyfriends there once. Really atmospheric place. So you've been there, then?" he asked, an unidentifiable look on his face.

Slowly Trip nodded. "Jon and I went there this one time."

"He an ex of yours?" Sebastian asked, obviously interested now.

"What?" Trip was genuinely shocked. "I, uh... Jon... Jonathan Archer!"

Sebastian blinked. "Oh," he said. Then, "He an ex of yours?" he repeated.

"No!" Trip replied. How dense could a guy get? "Jonathan Archer... cap'n of the _Enterprise_. That Jonathan Archer."

"Oh," Sebastian repeated. "Well, I quite enjoyed their starters," he continued, obviously talking about the Thai place again.

"Uh... yeah..." Trip managed, now at a bit of a loss for what to say. He was also a little confused about why Sebastian would insist on talking about some random restaurant while not so subtly enquiring about Trip's romantic history. And his confusion grew when he noticed that Sebastian had abandoned his own towel at some point during the conversation, and was now sitting right next to Trip on his towel.

Trip swallowed, and tried to scoot on his ass further down at the towel. At the same time, he asked, "So, uh, what were you doin' in Florida?"

Sebastian ignored the question altogether, and apparently hadn't noticed Trip's growing panic. "Maybe we should do this more often," he said nonchalantly.

"Do what?" Trip squeaked, feeling only marginally safer at the bottom of the towel. Quickly he jumped over to the one Sebastian had just abandoned.

Still apparently oblivious of the panic, Sebastian lay down and rolled over onto his side, looking up at Trip and shielding his eyes from the sun. "You know. This," he said, waving his other hand around the beach. "Surfing. Malcolm's never been that interested in water sports, I could never quite figure that one out." He paused. "There's a fantastic beach for surfing up near where I live," he continued. "I could show you at some point, if you're interested. More secluded than this place, at any rate."

"Uh... maybe not," Trip replied carefully. "We don't have a lotta shore leave left, still got some stuff to do before we hafta return to Spacedock."

Again Sebastian ignored him. "I've had a great time this morning," he told Trip, apparently sincere. He propped himself up on his elbows for a few seconds before sitting straight up again, bringing himself more or less level with Trip. "Really great time," he enunciated, and before he realised what was going on, Trip found himself in a half embrace, one of Sebastian's arms partway around his back, the other resting on his thigh. Trip tried to say something (nothing came out but another squeak), and he tried to push himself away from the... embrace... but before he'd gotten more than six inches, Sebastian leaned all the way in and kissed him.

Horrified, Trip jumped up and took a few steps away from the towels, almost tripping over one the surfboards in the process. "What the hell was that?" he bellowed.

Half the beach immediately turned to look at them, including the women down by the shoreline.

Sebastian blinked up at him. "Well, I thought... you know, you seemed to be enjoying yourself..." he trailed off.

"Yeah, the mornin' was fun," Trip replied, much more quietly now, "but that does _not_ mean I want you puttin' your hands all over me!"

Sebastian didn't seem that full of remorse; he looked more like he'd just achieved something he'd set out to do - and that was something Trip did not want to think about. "Maybe you shouldn't have been flirting, then," he replied.

Something in Trip snapped just then; still well aware that most of the people on the beach were watching his every move, he leaned back down towards Sebastian. "You think that was flirtin'?" he asked. "I don't know what kinda game you think you're playin' at the moment, but I swear, if we weren't in public, you wouldn't be sittin' there lookin' so damned cocky any more."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm sorry you gave me the wrong impression about what was going on," he replied coldly, all the humour of a few minutes before well and truly gone.

"Oh... jus' forget about it," Trip replied with equal venom. He grabbed his shirt and sandals and stormed off the beach, still all too aware of everyone's eyes boring into his back. He rounded a corner behind one of the beach huts, and leaned heavily back against it, breathing heavily and feeling deflated. Mary had been bad enough, but Sebastian's little "misunderstanding" really had just ruined his visit to Malcolm's family. For good. Right now, all he wanted was to go back to the Reeds' house, wait for Malcolm to get back from London, pack their stuff and get the next shuttle to... anywhere but here. Sighing, Trip put on the shirt and sandals and started the twenty minute walk back to the house.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

TBC...


	8. Chapter 7: Modern Way

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: will be dug up from the back garden as soon as I can remember where the heck they were buried ;) And a thoroughly drenched and (hopefully) back-with-reality Sita is here for the **Authors' Note**:

_(must not think of half-naked Malcolm and Trip... must NOT think of half-naked Malcolm and Trip...) So, this is the chapter where everything gets really dramatic and... _

She's off again (blinks). I like this chapter, meself. Then again, I just like Sebastian (bright grin). I'm probably the only one who does...

_Mary does. _

Since when did she count?

_Hey, she made Malcolm. _

...ugh (must not think of Mary and Stuart... ughughughughugh)

_Okay, I see your point. _

I'm glad somebody does.

_Let's just get our minds out of the gutter – _

- which is much easier said than done...

_, and get on with the story...!_

And once more, thanking ye for the reviews... hehe...

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter Seven: Modern Way**

Back on the beach, Sebastian ignored the looks and titters of the people around him. He rummaged around in the pockets of his jeans, and called the same secretary from earlier to get his arse down to the beach and pick up everything and get it out of here, not caring whether it was thrown away or not.

Well, this hadn't gone quite as he had imagined; Trip had seemed like the kind of person who would respond easily to his advances, and who wouldn't mind having a little fun on the beach, especially if his boyfriend was seventy miles away buying a computer with his boring, balding, anal retentive father. And the only reason he had tried to come onto Trip at all - blonds really weren't his type - was that said boyfriend could do so much better than said blond, and Sebastian had already realised he was more than willing to cause Malcolm the smallest of heartaches over the lawnmower guy if he was going to be there to pick up the pieces, and show Malcolm there were much better men out there for him - like himself. He had imagined going back to the Reeds' house after making his move on Trip on the beach, and from a distance watching Trip guilt himself into telling Malcolm what had happened - Sebastian had already learned enough about the man to know that Trip wouldn't give out any names - and then Sebastian would be there to comfort Malcolm and... well. The rest was fairly self-explanatory.

Except Trip had gone and bloody screwed the plan up. And Sebastian realised quickly that a Plan C was going to be needed, since neither Malcolm nor Trip had responded to him making a move on them. The direct approach (with Malcolm), had gone balls up; the indirect approach (with Trip) had gone similarly well, and Plan C involved actually lying, something he hadn't done to Malcolm since the fictional study group. But if that was what it took to fix things between him and Malcolm... well, Sebastian had no intentions of giving up at that point.

He slipped his shirt over his head, and scowled when he saw Mark getting out of his aircar next to the small cafe where Sebastian had bought the drinks for himself and Trip (which, of course, had turned out to be a complete waste of money and time). It wasn't asking too much of his employees if he expected them to be punctual, and Mark didn't exactly excel in that area. Well, he'd been thinking about getting rid of that guy for some time, and maybe it was time to act on that idea when he got back to London. But first he had other things to take care of.

"Sorry I'm late sir," Mark said apologetically, starting to pick up the towels and things, "traffic on the A27 was awful."

"Whatever," Sebastian replied, already walking away from his secretary. He really wasn't in the mood to talk to that idiot right now. He quickened his pace as he got to the road, an idea already beginning to form in his head about how he could implement Plan C.

By the time he got back to the Reeds' house, the plan was already fully formed, and this time, Sebastian was fairly certain that it would work. After all, he'd used the same tactic to complete the takeover of the company Trip's brother had been in charge of, and there was no reason why he couldn't mirror the successes of his business life in his personal life also. He didn't feel entirely comfortable about Plan C, but to his mind it was one of those necessary evils they talked about from time to time.

To his relief, Stuart and Malcolm had not yet returned from London (Stuart was probably the salespeople a hard time again), and Mary seemed to have vanished off somewhere as well (probably sulking). The sound of running water led Sebastian to the kitchen where Trip had just finished pouring himself a glass of water. When he saw him, Trip didn't react and just tried to walk past Sebastian, obviously trying to avoid another confrontation. But another confrontation was exactly what Sebastian was planning.

He blocked Trip's exit from the room with an arm. "Look, I want to apologize," he said. "I should have explained things first."

"And how would that make things any better?" Trip asked. He sounded weary. "I really don't wanna talk to you right now." He made as if to go past Sebastian again, but was again stopped.

"I don't want to cause any bad feelings between us," Sebastian continued as if there had been no interruption to what he was saying. "Just let me explain."

"I really don't see there's anythin' to be said," Trip replied, looking like he was starting to get angry again. "Jus'... move your arm, and let me get outta your way."

"Not yet," Sebastian insisted. "There's no reason to be that way about it - it was just a simple misunderstanding, that's all."

Trip laughed hollowly. "An' me an' Malcolm sharin' a bed for the last few nights, that doesn't give y'enough understandin'?" he asked sarcastically.

Inwardly Sebastian winced, but he kept up his resolve. "Okay, I get it. The two of you are together forever," he replied, coming very close to sneering the last two words.

"What do you mean by that, exactly?" Trip asked, clearly referring to Sebastian's less than sincere tone of voice.

Sebastian put on his most innocent expression. "I'm not sure," he said, keeping the innocent tone in his voice as well, "I... I was given the impression that the two of you were not particularly serious about each other."

"An' what exactly gave ya that impression?" Trip asked him, very much mystified but still angry. Then, "Oh. Lemme guess. Mary's been talkin' to ya, hasn't she?"

"Why would you think that?" Sebastian asked, avoiding - rather neatly, really - having to answer the question. "Well... I just don't think the two of you are all that suited to each other."

"An' how would you know anythin' about that?" Trip asked.

Again avoiding the question, Sebastian looked Trip dead in the eyes. "During our second year of university, Malcolm started... well, I suppose he was exploring his sexuality. Greg was quite heartbroken when he realised he was being used for his essay writing skills." Mentally amending that the only person Greg had had his heart broken over at New College, Oxford was the female captain of the university's volleyball team.

"Malcolm'd never do somethin' like that," Trip replied without hesitation.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Well, it would seem you don't know Malcolm Reed quite as well as you thought you did," he replied, taking care to get every single word across clearly. "Wouldn't be the last time he'd done something like that, either. He, um, he got quite the reputation by our final year at Oxford."

Sebastian had no way of knowing just what was so provocative about that final statement, but before he'd even completed the thought he found himself shoved right up against the wall. Trip had his arms pinned either side of him with just one of his own; the other hand was on the wall, inches away from Sebastian's left ear.

"I've just about had enough of you," Trip said harshly; he was breathing heavily, which only added to the sound of anger in his voice. He leaned in towards Sebastian's ear, and started to say something else, but Sebastian was no longer looking at Trip or paying him any attention; behind him, the kitchen door had just opened, revealing Mary Reed. Her expression was blank - for the moment - and Sebastian hesitated for less than a second before kicking into gear again.

Surprising Trip with some sudden movement of his own, he jerked forwards and pushed the American away from him. He took a couple of shallow breaths, to make it seem like he really had had the air knocked out of him. "Shit," he said, glancing at Mary and trying to make it look like he was shocked. "This - this isn't what it looks like."

Anger finally erupted onto Mary's face, and she looked unable to speak. She just backed out of the door, closing it as she went.

Opposite Sebastian, Trip had gone deathly pale; his eyes were wide and his mouth kept opening and closing, like a fish's. Sebastian settled for blinking at him, then making his own - speedy - exit from the kitchen before Trip could remember how to move.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

TBC...


	9. Chapter 8: Oh My God

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: Oh, figure them out for yourself. They're in the prologue somewhere, anyway!

The **Riot Act**, aka **Authors' Notes**: In light of... comments and reviews received relating to the previous chapter (and thanks for them, by the way, some of them were brilliant!), I'd like to say that I was all for Malcolm doing Sebastian in, in some form or manner. After all, the man's a trained hand to hand etc... however, I was cried down by my co-author, Sita here, who persuaded me another course of action would be much better.

In short? My Malcolm is much more dangerous than her Malcolm... ;)

_Yeah. So... we actually managed to squeeze some romantic moments into this one. _

You call it romantic, I call it sappy.

_You would._

I just did.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter Eight: Oh My God**

Malcolm steered the air car into his parent's driveway and parked it with an audible sigh of relief. He'd forgotten just how tedious shopping with his father could be. Although Stuart hadn't been so bad this time around; he'd come away with the computer Malcolm told him he wanted after translating the technobabble - _"Look... Christabel, whatever your name is, all I want to be able to do is call my brother in Yorkshire without being accused of perversion by somebody half way around the bloody world!" _- and had even looked amused when Malcolm had hit back with some technospeak of his own, leaving the saleswomen in the store flustered, before Malcolm had finally ushered him out and back to the car.

As soon as the car touched the ground again, Stuart hopped out and hoisted the side hatch into place. "You'll be alright if I leave you to it this time, won't you?" he asked with a smirk, and Malcolm fought back a grin. They'd had a great debate - or should that be argument? - with that Christabel person in the electronics store about the different languages the installation manual came in. Stuart's insistence in the beginning of only speaking Malay to the staff had caused... well, it had caused quite a stir before both Reeds had near collapsed from laughing. Malcolm had still to figure out just _why_ his father would do something like that, and arrived at the conclusion that it was better not to think too much about the reasoning, but to just join in the joke.

Malcolm nodded. "I'll let you know when I'm done," he replied; before he'd even finished the sentence Stuart had vanished around the side of the house to the shed in the back garden where he kept his "secret" stash of Scottish liquor out of the way of disapproving wives.

He got the box with the computer in from the back of the shuttle, sighing at the prospect of having to single-handedly dismantle the jury-rigged piece of equipment in the study that his father _dared_ to call a functioning computer. Closed the shuttle hatch behind him and took the box through the ground floor of the house to the study.

Malcolm out the box on the desk next to the old computer, and he was just about to take to the contraption with whatever large object was closest to hand (he was reasonably certain there was a hammer hidden somewhere in the room), when it occurred to him there might actually be files on the thing that Stuart would want saving. Sighing, he went back out to the garden. The shed door was open, but Stuart was nowhere to be seen, although Malcolm poked his head around the shed door just to make sure of the fact. When he re-emerged into the garden, Mary was standing by the back door to the house, a concerned expression on her face. _And where did she come from, exactly?_

She crossed the garden. "Have you seen Dad anywhere?" Malcolm called out as she got closer.

Mary shook her head. "Not since the two of you left to go to London," she replied, and for some reason - had to be some really serious reason - there was no hint of anything in her voice.

Malcolm was immediately concerned. "Is there something wrong?" he asked her, that much more gentle now.

Mary sighed. "Malcolm... I think this needs to be said in private."

Malcolm frowned. He held out his arms either side of him. "You see anybody else out here?" he asked. "What did you want to say?"

"Malcolm, I don't really don't know how to tell you this," she began awkwardly, "but I saw... something... earlier... between Sebastian and Trip in the kitchen." The last part came out somewhat rushed.

And now Malcolm was completely confused. "What are you talking about? Are they alright?" he asked, hoping it hadn't come to some sort of fight between the two of them.

Mary's eyes widened for a second before she broke her son's gaze. "I suppose - in a manner of speaking," she muttered, though not so quietly that Malcolm couldn't hear her.

"Come on, Mother," he replied, the confusion now being replaced with a growing sense of frustration, "just tell me what's happened!"

She looked around sharply at him. "This really is difficult for me to actually say, you know," she replied, "but... I saw Trip pushing Sebastian up against the kitchen wall, and was about to kiss him."

Malcolm stared at her. "What?"

Mary blushed a little. "Trip had Sebastian pinned against the wall, and was leaning right in close to him," she said, the words coming out in a rush now. "It - it looked entirely consensual," she added.

That wasn't much of a consolation for Malcolm. He felt like he'd just had a bucket of ice-cold water tipped over his head.

Mary, obviously sensing what she perceived to be Malcolm's distressed condition, stepped in even closer and put a hand on his shoulder. "Malcolm, I'm really sorry," she said, sounding sincere. "I just thought you ought to know."

Shaking his head, Malcolm pulled away from her hand. "No," he said. "No, no, no. I don't believe this. Trip would never do something like that!"

Mary simply looked at him, not saying a word.

Without saying anything else, Malcolm instead settled for throwing his mother the dirtiest look he could muster right there and then before storming inside the house. No. There had to have been something else going on there that Mary hadn't seen. And there was no doubt in Malcolm's mind that what his mother had said to him had been anything but the truth - or at least, what she thought was the truth. Mary may have had some sort of vendetta against Trip since he'd arrived just a few days earlier, but Malcolm could still tell when she was lying and when she was telling the truth.

The first thing he needed to do was find Trip and talk to him about what had happened - in Malcolm's experience, the only resolution to this sort of situation was getting all sides of the story and then passing judgement rather than just flying off at half cock and really screwing things up for all concerned.

Malcolm checked his and Trip's bedroom first, and was not surprised to find his partner there. What did surprise him was the fact that Trip was sat on the bed, facing away from the door, head bowed and staring at the floor in between his legs. He didn't appear to have heard Malcolm come in.

Quietly Malcolm shut the door behind him and slipped around the bed to where Trip was. "Trip?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

Finally Trip looked up. His expression was carefully blank, although there was an unsettling hollowness in his eyes. "Yeah, sure," he replied, sounding just as hollow as he looked. "Wouldn't mind a ticket back ta Spacedock, though."

Malcolm realised then that the best - and probably only - time to broach this subject was, well, now. He sat down on the bed next to Trip, and tried not to react too much when his partner refused to meet his eyes. "Do you want to tell me what's happened?" he asked quietly. "Mother mentioned something about... something between you and Sebastian; I'd like a more trustworthy version of events."

Trip didn't smile at the weak joke. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"Why? What for?"

Trip sighed, still staring at the carpet. "I bet she told you I was about ta..." He trailed off, obviously unable - or unwilling - to finish the sentence. "I... thanks for not killin' me."

Malcolm blinked, then smiled. "Tell me what's gone on, and I'll decide whether or not to kill you," he joked. _Or Sebastian. Bloody prick._ He had a nasty suspicion - further reinforced by _that_ scene in the garden this morning - that his old "friend" had more than something to do with things getting like this.

Trip didn't rise to the weak bait, settling for sighing down at the carpet. "Long story short," he began, "we went to the beach. Surfed a little. Sebastian tried ta come onta me, kissed me - little bastard had the balls to look innocent about what he was doin'. We, uh, had a kind of an argument, I came straight back home. He cornered me in the kitchen, gave me some shit about you doin' the dirty on some guy named George or Greg at university. Kinda lost it then, shoved him up against the wall, was about ta tell him what was goin' to happen between my knee an' his crotch - then your mom came in." He laughed bitterly. "Next thing I knew, he was pushin' me away and tellin' Mary things weren't what they looked like."

Malcolm took a second to process the burst of information. "First things first," he began, now fighting to keep the anger at bay, "the only person who ever 'did the dirty' on Gregory Deaven at uni was the Marilyn Monroe lookalike captaining the volleyball team. Secondly, would you happen to know where Sebastian is - I've got a couple of former rugby players on the security teams that would _love_ to make his acquaintance on my behalf."

Finally Trip looked up, and to Malcolm's unbelievably immense relief, he was smiling - it was small, but it was a smile. "You won't hafta go that far," he said quietly. "I'd be more than happy ta settle for seein' the back of him, an' nothin' more."

Malcolm smiled. "I think that can be arranged," he replied softly, smiling, and drew his partner in for a soft kiss. When they broke apart, Trip looked a little happier and much more relieved than before.

"Oh, come on," Malcolm smiled, cupping the side of Trip's face with a hand. "You really think I'd believe something my mother said without checking the facts first?"

"Well..." Trip tried to pull away, but Malcolm wouldn't let him.

"Look at me," he said firmly, waiting for Trip to do so. "Tell me you believe that I have absolute trust in you."

"I do."

"Good," Malcolm replied cheerfully, "because I trust _you_. And now I'm going to find a certain someone and explain a few very important facts very clearly to him. And if he _still_ doesn't get the message," he added, shrugging his shoulders, "I'll let my job title do the talking."

Trip grinned properly for the first time since Malcolm had come in the room. Then he sobered up again. "You should really talk to your mom first," he told Malcolm. "She's probably upset about this as well as you."

"Not for the same reasons, I'll bet," Malcolm muttered, eliciting another small smile from his partner. He stood up.

"You want me to come with you?" Trip asked.

"No," Malcolm replied firmly, shaking his head. If Trip was there as well, then Mary would likely go straight on the defensive and not listen to a word Malcolm would tell her. "No. This... I think this has to be done on my own."

"...Okay," Trip replied softly. "I guess I... guess I'll be waitin' up here."

Malcolm nodded, squeezed Trip's hand one last time and left the bedroom. On the way downstairs, he realised - much to his surprise - that he was far angrier at Mary than at Sebastian, although really it should have been the other way around. Maybe it was because he didn't really expect anything else behaviour-wise from Sebastian, although he had hoped by now that his mother might just have changed. Although that still seemed to be hoping for too much. And her telling him that Trip had kissed Sebastian really was the cherry on top of the unpleasant cake.

He found Mary in the kitchen, preparing food for lunch. She looked up as Malcolm got closer. "Malcolm..." she began faintly.

"No." Malcolm cut her off with just the single word and a glare. "This time, you listen to me. I've just spoken with Trip, and suffice it to say his version of events differs _greatly_ to yours."

"Look," Mary tried again, "haven't you considered the possibility Trip was telling you the tr -"

Once again Malcolm cut her off. "Haven't you considered the possibility I trust Trip with my _life_?"

She blinked at him, evidently at a loss for what to say.

"And there are also things you don't know about Sebastian," Malcolm continued, "which comes as a surprise to me since it was your idea to have the idiot here to begin with. In the four days since he's been here, Sebastian Thorne has repeatedly come onto me in full view of my partner, has continually put my partner down to the point of outright condescension. He has attempted to seduce the both of us in the same morning, and has had the gall to try and blame Trip for his own bloody twisted gains!"

"Malcolm..." Mary didn't look ready to give up just yet. "I saw Trip about to _kiss_ Sebastian."

"No, Mother," Malcolm interrupted, feeling rather frustrated now. He was trying to keep his voice level, having already come very dangerously close to shouting. "What you saw was Trip about to explain to Sebastian exactly why his balls would not be attached to him for very much longer."

Mary stood her ground. "And you believe that, do you?"

"If it comes down to choosing to believe either the man who slept with half the student population of Oxford during three years, or the man who's saved my life more times than I care to count, and means more to mean than anything ever has," Malcolm replied, his voice deadly quiet now, "then I choose Trip every time."

"I really didn't want to tell you, Malcolm," Mary tried again.

Malcolm held up another hand. "But you thought you'd stir up the water anyway, did you?" he asked.

Mary sighed. "I just didn't think he was right for you," she told him.

"And don't you think I'm old enough now to make that kind of decision for myself?" he asked her. "I'm not seventeen any more, Mother, and I gave my heart to Trip a long time ago." He sighed. "And I really can't take this any more."

"What do you mean?"

"We're leaving," Malcolm told her shortly. "We're going to pack our things, and then I'm going to take Trip out of this house." He was reasonably certain Madeleine and Paul would be happy enough to put them up for the last week of their shore leave.

And even though, he was kind of sad he wouldn't have much opportunity to spend more time with his father, Malcolm knew he'd still be able to make his excuses, and come back to put Stuart's computer together.

Left to his own devices, Stuart might blow something up.

"Malcolm!" Mary called after him, but Malcolm was already half way up the stairs and didn't bother to stop for her. He went straight for the bedroom where Trip was still waiting for him, and tried to put all thoughts of university idiots and interfering mothers out of his head.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

TBC...


	10. Chapter 9: Time Honoured Tradition

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: are... somewhere.

**Reviewer Response**: To the comment about Malcolm's parents living in Malaysia... yes, it's true, during _Silent Enemy_ Hoshi did find them living there. However -- and this really is something we ought to have mentioned earlier on in this fic -- we (my co-author and I) prefer to have Stuart and Mary 'conveniently' move back to England (which is where I'm from) as it's easier to place locations etcetera there rather than in Asia. I apologise that the move back to England wasn't made clearer.

**Authors' Notes**: Thanking ye for the brilliant reviews once more (don't worry, we will deal with him later on!), and... You know, we never did get the lie detector in this one, did we?

_It's a shame, really. _

What? That Mary didn't get to channel Robert DeNiro, or Trip escaped the electric shocks?

_Both, actually, and I was just thinking about some of the questions she could have asked him – "Have you ever been pregnant?"... poor boy... _

"Have you ever attempted to seduce a married woman?" (thinks of Feezal...) well, she tried to do that to him...

_But as always, he was the perfect gentleman... _

(snort)

_Well, he didn't want Malcolm to kill him. _

True, true.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter Nine: Time Honoured Tradition**

Later that afternoon, and Trip and Malcolm were pretty much settled in in Madeleine's spare bedroom. Trip had been quite amused to watch Malcolm and his sister bustle around the house, trying to find enough bedding without tripping over either of Malcolm's two small nieces. He sobered up considerably, though, every time he realised that however indirectly, _he_ was the reason that he and Malcolm were here in the first place. Okay, so Malcolm didn't blame him at all, but Trip still knew that if he hadn't lost it with Sebastian, all this would never have happened.

Eventually, however, sufficient bedding was found, no injuries were sustained as a result of Michelle and Aisling running around like pre-school maniacs, and Trip and Malcolm had all but made themselves at home in the spare room. They'd already had to chase the cat off the double bed and out of the window altogether when Malcolm's nose had threatened treason, and in the kitty-free time since, they'd unpacked and... well.

All the time they'd been in Madeleine's house, Malcolm had seemed subdued, although he was visibly relieved to be away from his parents' house and the chance of any further confrontations. Trip knew that despite the reputation that came with a job like his, Malcolm wasn't the kind of person who relished actively seeking showdowns with people - rather, he was the opposite. Trip also knew better than to try and talk to Malcolm directly about his argument with Mary, at least for the moment; he knew his partner well enough that Malcolm needed time to think things over, and then he would seek Trip out, not the other way around.

But still Trip felt it wasn't enough. He only knew the barest details of what had happened between Malcolm and his mother, but knew enough about Reed family dynamics to know that even something tiny could potentially cause months or years of hurt. And maybe that was just because these people simply didn't talk to each other enough. And personally, Trip could only imagine what would happen if his own parents ever got the chance to "meet the Reeds", as it were.

But Mom and Dad were in Florida with their grandkids at the moment, and Trip was here - and he had already realised that this was something he would have to figure out on his own. So, maybe he didn't understand exactly what he done to incur Mary Reed's... formidable wrath - it seemed to be his presence alone that got her going. But he wasn't going to give up that easily. Hell, it had taken him more than half a year to get Malcolm to talk to him about anything that didn't involve phase cannons and power distribution - and with that particular Reed taken care of, his parents should be a walk in the park.

He hoped.

Well, it seemed like a good idea, but Trip knew in his heart that if he was going to go back to Malcolm's parents' house, he needed to go without Malcolm knowing. His partner definitely wouldn't approve of Trip stepping into the line of fire for him, especially if Mary Reed was the one holding the gun.

And now seemed to be as good time as any. Malcolm was down in the kitchen; he had been roped into baking with his nieces, and by now was probably covered head to toe in flour and barely recognizable under the pink icing. From what Trip had seen of those two little monsters, they weren't going to let their uncle go anywhere without putting up a fight, having only met him properly for the first time a few hours before. Trip had been busy with luggage, cats and stuff when the cookie baking session had begun, and had later declined the invitation to join in; he felt that Malcolm deserved to spend some quality time with the kids. And besides, pink just wasn't Trip's colour.

He made his way down the stairs, grinning as he heard a childlike squeal of delight from the kitchen - "No, Uncle Malcolm, you put the flour in the bowl!" - followed by the sound of Malcolm laughing, and then saying something Trip couldn't quite hear. He left Malcolm and the girls to it, and slipped out the front door. Outside, the sun was shining, and for a second Trip just stood there, trying to gather enough remaining scraps of his courage to continue his way to the Reeds' house. He wasn't just nervous at the moment - he was freakin' terrified. He didn't want to think about what he was going to find when he got there.

The ten minute walk dragged on far too slowly for Trip's liking, but eventually he was stood outside the Reeds' front door, trying to work up enough courage to actually ring the doorbell. He was saved from having to make this decision when the door opened, revealing Stuart, looking rather sheepish and with what looked like a computer manual tucked under his arm.

"Oh," he said. "It's you." He stood to one side of the door. "Do you want to come in?"

"Thanks," Trip said nervously, following Stuart inside the house. Feeling that he had to say something else, he added, "Still having trouble with that computer?"

"Bloody things really should come written in English." Stuart scowled, waving the book in front of him. "I swear, I'll never understand this technocrap."

"Well," Trip replied, beginning to smile, "they don't call me an engineer for nothin'. Wanna hand settin' the thing up?" he asked. Mary could wait until later.

Stuart stared at him. "Would you?" he asked, then caught himself. "Okay, before you change your mind, the _machine_ is this way."

Trip followed him into the small study and tried not to groan when he saw the state of the old - and new - computer on the desk, resembling nothing more than a pile of junk. Stuart had apparently been trying to dismantle the old model at the same time as trying to put the new one together, and as a result Trip couldn't tell where one ended and the other one began.

Trip let out a low whistle. "This might take a while," he told Stuart, who paled at the prospect.

"Is it that bad?" he asked quietly.

Trip tried for an encouraging smile. "Like I said, I'm an engineer," he said. "What tools have you got?"

"Tools?" Stuart repeated, staring at him blankly.

Trip mentally sighed and looked back at the mess on the desk. "We'll figure somethin' out," he said confidently, pushing all thoughts of Mary to the back of his mind when he saw Stuart's grateful expression.

They spent the next half hour or so with Trip taking charge of the operation, telling Stuart which bits of computer to keep and which to chuck away - fortunately, Stuart had already made soft copies of all the files he wanted to keep, and those were apparently tucked away in a drawer or somewhere. Eventually, Trip was left with what looked like all the parts for a full-functioning computer on the desk, and within minutes had put it all back together again. Stuart was positively glowing by this point, and when Trip switched the computer on, and the company's logo lit up the screen, he looked like he was going to just faint on the spot.

Stuart grinned. "Stupid saleswoman," he muttered. "I could have sworn they were trying to tell me to do it a different way."

Trip grinned back, but before he could say anything the study door opened and Mary came in. "Stuart, I..." she began, before noticing Trip. Her back stiffened. "Oh. I didn't know you were here."

Stuart beamed at his wife. "He's just done a fantastic job fixing the computer for me," he informed her. At that, Mary's scowl only deepened, but she said nothing.

"Actually," Trip began, realising that it really was going to be now or never, "I was kinda hopin' I could talk to ya, ma'am."

She regarded him with raised eyebrows. "Really?"

Trip stood his ground. "Yeah."

Stuart blinked a couple of times, obviously picking up on the growing tension. "Well, if anyone needs me, I'll be out in the shed," he announced brightly, before slipping past his wife and - quite literally - leaving Trip to the wolves.

Mary barely spared him a glance before shutting the door behind her. She turned back to face Trip. "So, what do you have to say?" she asked, her English accent impeccable.

Trip took a deep breath. "I think we need to talk," he replied quietly.

"Do we?"

Trip sighed. Okay, she wasn't going to make this easy for him. "Yeah, we do."

"Well, then," Mary told him. "Fire away."

Trip took a deep breath. There was nothing like jumping straight in at the deep end, after all. "I jus' wanna know why you seem ta be so set against me an' Malcolm bein' together," he said.

Mary frowned. "After what happened yesterday, I would have thought that would be perfectly obvious," she replied crisply.

"Yeah, I heard you told Malcolm 'bout that."

"I was simply trying to protect my son," Mary told him, immediately going straight for the defensive.

"Fine," Trip replied, "but did Malcolm tell you what really happened?"

She raised an eyebrow. "His version of events was that you were about to cause Sebastian serious bodily harm."

Trip felt anger beginning to flare up inside him. "You know, it's been Sebastian causin' the real harm around here," he replied.

Mary's eyes grew cold. "And why would that be, Mister Tucker?" she asked him, snapping the last two words out.

Trip sighed. "Because he's somehow got into his head that he's the better man for Malcolm, no matter what anyone else thinks."

Mary paused for a moment. "Malcolm did tell me that Sebastian was making advances on him," she said slowly. "Are you telling me that's true, because I just can't believe it."

"It's true," Trip nodded. "Sebastian's been all over Malcolm every chance he's got." _Been all over me, too_, he added mentally; Mary could probably do without hearing that right now.

Mary's face darkened, but this time Trip had the impression that her anger wasn't directed at him any more. "I can't believe it," she repeated quietly, to herself. "He always seemed like such a nice boy."

"I guess he's been tryin' to keep that image goin' when you're around," Trip replied, equally quietly. "All I know is he's been doin' his damned best ta split me an' Malcolm up." _Same as you._

Mary stared at Trip for a moment, saying nothing.

"Look," Trip said quietly. "I think it needs ta be said out loud you've not given me the easiest time since I've been here. But I love Malcolm, and I would never do anythin' ta hurt him. I trust him with my life."

Mary stared at him some more. "That's what he said about you," she replied, her voice barely even a whisper.

Trip heard it, though. "Yeah," he replied. Then, louder, "We've already been through a hell of a lot together on the _Enterprise_. We're not goin' ta be breakin' up anytime soon." _Anytime ever..._ "I jus'... I jus' hoped you might be able ta see that."

At that point, Mary turned away from him, and looked out of the window. " I never wanted him to be unhappy; I just don't want Malcolm to get hurt," she whispered.

"I know that," Trip replied, more than understanding of her sentiment.

She turned back to face him. "I think you should go, Trip," she said, using his name for the first time since he'd arrived here.

"Okay," Trip nodded. He understood that she wasn't kicking him out; rather, Mary looked like she just needed some time to think about what had been said here.

"Tell Stuart to let me know if anythin' goes wrong with the computer," he told her before leaving the room altogether. He just caught Mary's smile as he left; she had clearly got the unspoken message behind the simple statement.

"I will," she called after him. After a small pause. "Thank you, Trip."

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

TBC...


	11. Chapter 10: Born to Be a Dancer

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: for the last time, sadly, nothin' belongs to us except for Sebastian. Hmm...

**Authors' Notes**: _Thankyou for reviewing! Okay, so here we go... this is the chapter where we finally get rid of our new favourite bad guy, Sebastian Thorne... and not a minute too soon! _

Absolutely. I did like him, but hey – Trip and Malcolm are more fun.

_I liked him too, like to hate him. _

_Yeah..._

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Chapter Ten: Born To Be a Dancer**

Madeleine was in the kitchen with Malcolm and the kids when Trip came down the hallway and poked his head around the door. "Any cookies left for me?" he asked brightly.

"Lots left!" Aisling, the older of the two girls said, offering him a tray filled with different coloured biscuits. She grinned delightedly when Trip picked one of the bright pink ones and made a show of eating it for her.

Madeleine had two year old Michelle on her lap; she'd fallen asleep from all the excitement, and was still caked in the sugary icing. Malcolm was sat opposite her at the small table, and smiled up at Trip. "Hey."

"Hey," Trip grinned back. He came all the way into the kitchen, scooping up Aisling when she held up her arms to him, and swung down into the chair next to Malcolm while Aisling busied herself with attaching herself to Trip like a limpet.

He looked over at Malcolm. "So, uh, how come you never made any of these great cookies for me on _Enterprise_?" he joked.

Malcolm smirked. "Are you being serious? Chef's even more dangerous since we cleared him to use a phase pistol."

Madeleine grinned at the inference behind that sentence, while Trip smiled as well. "An' whose fault was that?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at Malcolm.

"The captain's," Madeleine's brother replied without missing a beat. "Although I did try to tell him Chef was more than proficient with self-defence armed only with a ladle and hot pan."

Both Trip and Madeleine laughed out loud at that. Still on Trip's lap, Aisling squirmed around until she was facing him. "Do you like bunny rabbits?" she asked him.

"Sure," Trip replied.

"Can I show you?" Aisling asked him. She threw a surprisingly dirty look at the man next to him. "Uncle Malcolm didn't want to see them, he says they make him ill."

"Okay, then," Trip grinned. He stood up again, and swung the little girl around onto his back. "But you're gonna hafta tell me which way to get to the garden!"

"Okay," she giggled, and the two of them left the kitchen.

Madeleine watched them leave with another smile. "He's very good with children," she told her brother.

He smirked. "Coming from a family his size, it would be hard not to."

Madeleine grinned briefly. Then she sobered up. "How long are you going to keep this up?" she asked him.

Malcolm looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"This." With her free arm, Madeleine indicated her house. "You know Paul and I are happy to have you here, and I've never seen the girls so excited since I told them where you worked, but..." She sighed. "Don't you think you're getting a little too old now to be holding grudges?"

Malcolm's face went dark. "This isn't about holding a grudge," he replied shortly. "It's more than that."

"So tell me," Madeleine challenged him.

"One word," Malcolm said darkly. "Sebastian."

Madeleine didn't miss a beat. "I know he can be an idiot," she replied. "But is that really any reason to leave Mother and Dad and come here?"

"Mother's been treating Trip like dirt ever since we got here."

"Mother's done that with everyone we've ever brought back to that place," Madeleine countered. "So what's the difference here?"

"She's been taking Sebastian's side over everything," Malcolm replied.

"And now you sound six years old all over again," Madeleine told him firmly, and he scowled at her. Too used to the reaction to do anything but ignore it, she continued. "Look, I've invited Mother and Dad over for dinner this evening, and I really would like you to be there," she said firmly. "Both you and Trip. Mother seemed... well, it sounded odd, but it sounded like she really did want the two of you to be here."

"That'd be a first," Malcolm muttered.

"You know," Madeleine retorted, "I think Trip would want you to at least try and rebuild some of the bridges with your parents."

Sighing, Malcolm held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll be there," he told her. "Just don't expect me to say anything."

"Malcolm," Madeleine said solemnly. "I never expect you to do anything."

Malcolm just glared at her.

o o o o o

There was a strange sense of déja-vu in the air that evening, Madeleine reflected, watching the dining room from the relative safety of the kitchen. Trip and Malcolm had put Aisling and Michelle to bed, and everyone else was sat around the dining table, carefully avoiding each other's eyes. Paul had really made an effort with his own concocted pasta dish, but nobody seemed that much interested in it. He'd just set the bowl in the centre of the table, and was about to start serving it when the doorbell rang.

Madeleine went to answer it, trying to work out who it could be as she went. She opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

On the front step, Sebastian held up an expensive-looking bottle of wine, grinned, but said nothing.

"This is a family dinner," Madeleine told him, not in the mood for mind games or any other games, that matter.

"Hey, come on," Sebastian replied, sounding infuriatingly cheerful. "You're not going to just leave me standing out here, are you?"

"Tempting," she muttered, still amazed by the sheer gall of the man. She made as if the shut the door, but Sebastian stuck his shoe in the way, preventing it from closing. "Maddy," he began, "just give me a chance, okay. I'm not out to ruin anyone's evening."

_Now I really have heard everything._ But Madeleine found herself unable to simply shut the door in his face. Maybe he really had come to put things right and try to restore a years-long friendship with her brother. She opened the door again, and when she saw the almost pleading expression on Sebastian's face, the mother in her gave in, and stood aside to let him walk past and through to the dining room.

What little conversation had begun to spring up in there died almost the instant Sebastian walk through the door, and Madeleine could hear Sebastian's fake cheerfulness as he greeted everybody sat at the table. Dreading looking at the expression that would undoubtedly playing out on her brother's face, Madeleine went back to the kitchen and found another plate and some spare cutlery for the unwelcome arrival. When she re-entered the dining room, all eyes went immediately to her, and she had to try very hard to force herself to smile. "I hope you made enough for seven, Paul," she said to her husband.

Paul grimaced, but said nothing. There was plenty in the bowl anyway, more than enough for anyone who might want seconds afterwards. He kept dishing out the pasta, making sure to leave Sebastian's to last, and only giving him a small amount of the dinner, whisking away the bowl from the table before he could complain about not having enough.

Malcolm, meanwhile, was glaring daggers at Madeleine from across the table - _What the hell did you think you were doing, letting him in?_ - while beside him, Trip was concentrating on his dinner. Madeleine was beginning to ask herself the same question, and shifted uncomfortably on her chair when she saw her mother carefully avoiding looking at anybody - including Trip, Malcolm and Sebastian, who seemed to be the only person in the room oblivious to all the tension - even Stuart was more subdued than normal, sitting on the other side of Malcolm.

But still, Stuart was once again the first person to speak. "You did a fantastic job sorting out the computer for me, Trip," he announced suddenly. "Really, very grateful."

"I thought we didn't get it done," Malcolm said, frowning first at his father, then partner.

"Well, yes," Mary said, speaking up also. "Trip came by earlier."

"He did?" Malcolm asked, glancing back at Trip; it was the American's turn to start squirming in his seat, and Madeleine started to wonder just what really was going on around here.

"You've got a new computer?" Sebastian asked Stuart; the older man reluctantly nodded. "Well, there was no need to go out and buy one; we've just upgraded all our main offices, you could have had one of the older ones."

Stuart scowled at him. "Malcolm and I did perfectly well searching out a new one for ourselves," he replied curtly.

Sebastian shrugged. "Suit yourself," he replied flippantly, before eating a forkful of pasta. Then he looked at Trip. "Getting your hands dirty again, were you?"

Trip raised his eyes from his dinner for the first time since Sebastian had entered the room. "An' what business is it of yours?" he asked quietly. "I'm an engineer, it's my job to know how these things work."

"Right - I bet you repair lawnmowers every day on _Enterprise_," Sebastian shot back.

"Sure I do," Trip replied. "'Cept I got my hands full with a fully functionin' warp five engine most of the time."

At that point, Madeleine found herself seriously considering kicking Sebastian out, but decided against it. It could prove chaotic, and she had no intention of waking her daughters up over something so pathetic as Sebastian Thorne.

"Ah yes," Sebastian sneered. "The mighty Charles Tucker the Third, chief engineer of his best friend's starship."

"What are you tryin' t'imply?" Trip asked - even Madeleine could recognise the dangerous tone creeping into his voice; Malcolm, on the other hand, simply looked happy enough to let the show play itself out.

"Just that in my opinion, it takes a little more to deserve such an important position than to be best friends with the captain and cheat on your final exam," Sebastian replied, his voice dripping with venom. He blinked, and returned to his dinner.

"And what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Malcolm demanded, shouting at Sebastian, who looked back up, startled and not a little scared at hearing the armoury officer yell for the first time.

But he recovered quickly. "I hate to have to be the one who tells you, Malcolm." He smiled thinly. "But your precious Commander Tucker is nothing more than a common cheater."

There was silence in the dining room.

"I had someone do a little digging," Sebastian continued, relishing the fact that he now seemed to have the complete attention of everyone sat around the table. "It would seem that there was a nasty little incident in Harvard's engineering department the year Tucker graduated. Someone hacked into the computer database the night before the last exam and succeeded in substituting some of the theory questions for much more specialised ones. Ones on warp theory," he concluded triumphantly, looking around the table. "Because of course, that's Mister Tucker's field of expertise now, isn't it?"

There was a deadly silence, before Trip got up and stormed out of the room. He'd not got much further than the hallway, when - surprising everyone - Paul spoke up.

"I think you'll find you've got the facts mixed up a little, Sebastian," he said, his Irish accent making him sound more good-natured than he actually was. "It may not have come to your attention, but as a sometime professor at Harvard myself, I _do_ know about the things that students have got up to in their time. Charlie Tucker had nothing to do with the glitch in the computer systems, and although he was indeed accused of sabotaging the computers, he was also cleared within four hours of the accusation being made."

By this time Trip had edged back into the dining room, and was standing just inside the door, listening to everything Paul had to say, even nodding a couple of times when it was evident the two of them were in agreement.

"So he did cheat, but was cleared through bribery or other means," Sebastian shot back at Paul.

"Why, you little -" Trip began, making as if to go for Sebastian's throat again, but someone else was much quicker off the draw.

Mary was on her feet in under a second, and caught Trip's arm in a vice grip. "Wait," she told him firmly.

"Mother -" Malcolm began, but Mary cut him off with nothing more than a glare.

"No, Malcolm," she replied. "Let me handle this."

Malcolm frowned.

Mary let go of Trip, and took two steps closer to Sebastian. She reached out for him, and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him to his feet. He was an easy six inches taller than she was, but right now Mary Reed towered over him. "You," she snarled. "Get out of this house - now!"

"Listen, Mary," Sebastian began, trying to straighten his shirt and jacket out again.

She interrupted him with something that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "Didn't you hear what I just said, or do you need your ears testing?" she asked coldly. "You've outstayed your welcome."

That was putting it mildly, Madeleine thought, but Sebastian still didn't appear to have got the message. "You're the one who's always said you've wanted nothing but the best for your son," he shot back. "Do you really want him farting around for the rest of his life with some godforsaken engineer?"

Bearing in mind that her own husband was a "godforsaken engineer", Madeleine seriously considered at that point getting up, and showing Sebastian a few things Malcolm had taught her. It turned out, however, that she didn't need to do so.

"Trip Tucker is not some godforsaken engineer," Mary said in a silky tone of voice. She tightened her grip on Sebastian's collar. "He's the man my son is in love with."

She yanked on the collar, and started to pull Sebastian towards the front door. It was strangely compelling to watch; everyone got up from the table, even Stuart, and followed Mary and Sebastian to the door. She pulled him right to the very edge of the door frame, and kicked him out onto the front step. "And if I ever see you causing trouble for anyone in my family ever again," she told him, everyone behind her listening to her every word. "Then you'll have me to answer to. And if that doesn't scare you enough, I suggest you get in contact with a young man named Adam Tyler. He wouldn't take me seriously the first time I told him to leave, either, and believe me, he lived to regret it."

Sebastian seemed unable to do anything but stand there and stare at her with his mouth open, clearly having trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that it was Mary Reed standing there with her hands firmly placed on her hips and telling him to leave her family alone.

After a few seconds he started to walk away, but stopped before he'd made three steps. He turned back around. "You know, Malcolm," he called back, raising his voice slightly, "You and I _could_ have been good together."

Beside her, Madeleine could see Malcolm fume for a second, before pushing through the small gaggle of people to stand next to his mother. "Maybe you should have thought about that before setting about those extra-curricular activities at Oxford," he said quietly.

Before Sebastian could do - or say - anything else, Mary shut the front door in Sebastian's face.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**The End... _or is it?_**


	12. Epilogue

**Disclaimer and Warnings**: Nope, still not ours. Though we do like to 'play' with them from time to time ;)

**Authors' Notes**: Well, here we are. The damn thing's finally finished, and this is my epilogue. Sita had the prologue, and besides, I'm too protective of the Denobulan ladies' "singles" club to let anybody too close to this one!

_She's been fantasising about them chasing "available" men for... I'm not going to tell you how long!_

Hey!... we decided this was going to be humour, didn't we? This is comic relief!

_And it's why you want to write the epilogue?_

Abso – freakin' – lutely.

_Well, then, I'll leave you to it._

(hums Taps as she gets the laptop out)

_Oh, and by the way, we hope you've enjoyed the story._

'Cause God only knows how much (ahem) fun we've had writing it and putting it together!

_Exactly. And you know, we got through this whole thing without a single major argument. Great minds really do think alike! ;)_

Yep, and all fools are the same. So. Which are we?

_Hmm... maybe we can cross out the part about the great minds..._

Even though we do think alike, right? ;)

_Exactly. Just equally crazy._

Yep.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

**Epilogue**

**Six Months Later. . .**

_One potato, two potato..._

Trip got to ten, held his breath, closed his eyes and waited...

"Boo! Uncle Trip, I found you!"

He opened his eyes, laughed, and scooped the future detective off the floor and up onto his shoulder, careful to mind her dress. For her part, Aisling Burroughs-Reed – the newest of Trip's nieces as well as her little sister – was overjoyed to be on her favourite perch again; as Trip came out of the small side-room and back into the room where everything and indeed, every_one_ was, she looked around in just as much interest as her uncle.

The party was in full swing. And the more Trip looked around, the more people he saw... well, his grin only got wider and wider. Almost everywhere he looked, there were at least some people he recognised.

The newly promoted Lieutenant (junior grade) Travis Mayweather was currently chatting to the wife of Malcolm's dad's cousin's cousin – if Trip had followed this particular branch of the family tree correctly – while at the same time keeping an eye on what was going around him. Seconds later, the reason for this became all too clear. A sturdily built Denobulan lady suddenly emerged from a blockade of Tuckers and made a beeline straight for _Enterprise's_ helmsman, who promptly looked scared and ducked behind the cousin's cousin's wife.

Trip grinned when he realised that two of Phlox's wives had made it to Earth, after all. That would have been Meila, chasing Travis around, while Forliyal was... Trip glanced around some more... Forliyal was chatting animatedly with Trip's dad; they were both keen etymologists. A little further behind them stood T'Pol and another Vulcan, both wearing traditional robes. Subcommander T'Pol would be remaining First Officer of the _Enterprise_ for the duration of its second year mission, something husband Kos had raised no issues or disagreements with.

Two-year-old Michelle Burroughs-Reed was hanging off her daddy's arms while he was chatting away with Trip's brother Michael and _his_ husband Larry. Both Paul and Madeleine appeared unfazed by the sheer amount of Tuckers in the place, and seemed to be doing their best to get to know as much of the extended family as was humanly possible; Madeleine was working her way around Trip's various aunts, uncles and cousins, all of whom had declared her 'cute!' before many questions (and most of them at once) about her job as an interior designer.

Just then, a voice from behind Trip: "And I thought I'd gotten used to Tucker gatherings."

Trip turned around. "Hey, Cap'n," he grinned.

"I told you, while we're on Earth, it's Jon," Jonathan smiled back. He looked up at Trip's passenger, and held out a hand to her. "It's nice to meet you as well, uh..."

"My name's Aisling," the little girl informed him proudly.

Jonathan grinned. "Well, Aisling, you make sure to give me back my chief engineer safe and sound when you're done using him as a horse," he told her seriously. "We do actually need him."

Trip pretended to sulk, while on his shoulders Aisling laughed. "Uncle Malcolm said that as well," she told Jonathan. "Who's your girlfriend?"

"Busted," Trip grinned. He glanced behind the captain. "Where's your date?"

"She just went to the little girls' room, Trip," Jonathan replied. Then, up at Aisling, "She's not my girlfriend, she's just a friend of mine."

Trip snorted. "Aislin'?" he asked. "First official piece of advice from your Uncle Trip. Never listen to this man when he's not wearin' Starfleet uniform."

She giggled.

"I'll get you later," Jonathan told Trip, although he was smiling. He looked around the rest of the hall again. "Just how many people have you got here?"

"S'many as we could get hold of," Trip replied. "Mom made up a list, I think she said over two hundred were plannin' on showin' up today."

"All family?"

"Not all of 'em, we got about forty friends and co-workers that could make it at such short notice," Trip replied, smiling. "Dad and Stuart took off about twenty minutes ago, somethin' about mannin' the front door."

"Getting out while they still could?" Jonathan guessed.

Trip grinned. "Oh yeah. I'll give it another half hour, then send Aislin' here after 'em."

Jonathan looked amused. "Taking after Uncle Malcolm, are you?" he asked the little girl. "Want to do what he does when you're older?"

Aisling shook her head. "I wanna work with the dolphins!" she declared happily.

Trip chuckled to himself. "C'mon you," he told Aisling, lifting her off his shoulders and setting her on the floor. "You go find Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, tell them their wives are lookin' for them 'Kay?" The little girl grinned, nodded, and then ran off, weaving in amongst the adults with ease.

At about the same time, a woman approached Jonathan from behind, and Trip grinned. "I'll, uh, leave you to it," he muttered to the captain, before slipping away into the crowd of people again.

For her part, "Cap'n Erica", as one of Trip's nephews had taken to calling her, slipped an arm around Jonathan's waist. "Just friends?" she asked.

"Well..." Jonathan turned around. "Just how long have you been standing there, anyway?"

Trip heard a definitely feminine laugh behind him in response to his friend's question, just before the general chatter of everyone else in the main room drowned that particular conversation out. He weaved in and out of the small groups of people, grinning and stopping here and there to briefly join in conversations about every topic imaginable. Children – admittedly, most of them Tuckers, although here and there were a few that vaguely resembled Malcolm – were running about all over the place, chasing each other and playing hide and go seek under the draped tables behind the adults.

Trip kept moving – hi to Aunty Doreen, whom he hadn't seen since his older brother's wedding to Olivia; quick chat with Malcolm's two spinster aunts, Sherry and Abigail; slightly longer conversation with Hoshi and her date, one of the engineers from _Enterprise_ before moving onto the group of people clustered around Doctor Phlox. The Denobulan was holding a captive audience, and as he got closer, Trip could well imagine what was being said – and would you know it, he was right... the doc was regaling maybe a dozen of Malcolm's closer and more distant family members with exploits involving Sickbay, and consequent break-outs thereof. Trip sidled in behind one of the second cousins-twice-removed (well, it was something like that!), and tapped Phlox on the shoulder.

"Hey, Doc."

Surprised, Phlox turned and grinned at him; sensing the shift in focus, the other people started drifting away a little, leaving the two of them on their own by the end of the buffet table.

Trip grinned back. "How're you doin'?" he asked.

"Really rather splendidly, Commander," Phlox replied. "Thank you for inviting me to this!"

Trip glanced around them briefly. "How're the wives getting' on?" he asked. He knew it was the first time either of them had been to Earth; he'd been kind of anxious that everything had gone smoothly for them, both the journey and actually being here.

Phlox beamed. "Meila seems to have taken quite the shine to Lieutenant Mayweather, as I'm sure you've noticed," he informed Trip. "However Forliyal has her sights set on Commander Reed. But yes, they're both enjoying themselves immensely.

"Got the other husbands lookin' after the kids?" Trip asked.

"Yes, and they all send their best regards to you."

"Cool," Trip replied absent-mindedly. Then, "Speakin' of Malcolm, you haven't seen him anywhere, have you? I kinda lost him after Aislin' needed a Band-Aid."

Phlox nodded. "The last I saw, he was over by the larger table in the corner."

"Thanks..." Trip was already off. He dodged past the tuxedoes and floppy hats, again grinning and smiling here and there as he went, but this time not stopping to chat. Finally he found what he was looking for.

"Hey, gorgeous," he muttered, grinning at the same time.

"Keep that up for much longer, and you'll be sleeping on the sofa tonight."

Trip blanched. "Tell me you're kiddin'."

Malcolm simply grinned and poked out his tongue, the reaction not unlike anything his young nieces would come up with. "First night wedding traditions or not, start treating me like a nineteen thirties film heroine, and I promise you there will be no end to your misery."

"Great," Trip grumped, "I've been married for two hours an' already I'm in the doghouse."

"You know, just because I was born in England doesn't automatically make me a sadist," Malcolm smirked. "The sofa will do just fine for you!"

Trip simply stuck his tongue out, then sidled in closer to his partner – husband, he hurriedly corrected himself, though it was with an overwhelming sense of happiness that he did so... and even a bit of relief as well. Slipped an arm around Malcolm's waist and leaned in closer to his right ear. "So... what's this I've been hearin' about Mrs Phlox chasin' after ya?" he asked, trying not to sound as entertained about the idea as he actually was.

Malcolm scowled. "It's like the Denobulans have set up their own secret society," he complained, though Trip thought it sounded good-natured enough. "_Who Wants To Snog A Starfleet Officer_."

Unable to help himself, Trip snorted. "Yeah, I saw Meila givin' Travis the eye thing earlier on," he replied. He grinned again. "I think they'd make a cute couple, dontcha think?"

Malcolm huffed, but said nothing.

"Don't worry, darlin'," Trip continued, "I'll make sure ta keep Forliyal away from ya."

The quick elbow jab to his side spoke more to Trip than words ever could.

And instead of saying anything back, Trip spun his husband around in his arms so that they were facing each other, and kissed him gently – at the same time just about managing to ignore the whoops of delight from his own set of cousins from Ohio. He and Malcolm just looked at each other for a few seconds, each lost in the moment.

Just over Malcolm's left shoulder, Trip could see Mary Reed and Ann Tucker in conversation, both 'holding court' over the main exit from the hall. The two women looked as though they were actually getting along with one another, and the sight of their mothers together like that made Trip remember something.

"You know, I never did get around to askin' your mom for your hand in marriage," he grinned.

Malcolm just glared at him, but before either of them could say anything else, Trip felt someone tap his shoulder.

He turned around.

And gulped.

It was Feezal.

The _third_ Mrs Phlox.

Where in Cochrane's name had _she_ come from?

"Trip!" she smiled. "It really has been a long time since I've last seen you... my, you _are_ looking well... Come on, let's get reacquainted, shall we?"

She placed an iron tight grip on his arm and started to pull him away from Malcolm and in the direction of some of the empty chairs in the far corner. Trip twisted his neck around, intending to ask his husband to do something – anything! – to help him, but Malcolm simply waved at him, mouthed, _"Have fun, honey!"_ with the most evil grin on his face, then vanished off in the direction of his mother and mother-in-law.

o o o o o

_**Meanwhile. . . at roughly the same time Commander Malcolm Reed was deciding whether or not to rescue his new husband from the clutches of his Denobulan admirer (admittedly, it was rather fun just watching him suffer like that...!). . .**_

Neville Lester sat down at the desk of his new office, unable to suppress a grin.

He still couldn't quite believe that this was all _his_ now.

It had been six months since his boss, the formerly terrifying, intimidating and generally pain-in-the-derriere boss Sebastian Thorne had had what the doctors had called a midlife crisis, and handed over his entire company to his secretary, one Neville Clarence Lester. It had to be one of the coolest promotions in history. Beleaguered and overworked secretary to CEO in less than five years.

In fact, during the 'Reed Situation' which had come to a head with this so-called mid-life crisis, Neville had all but been running the company single-handedly while his boss had chased around after one of Starfleet's best and brightest like a deranged puppy (even using Neville himself at one point to deliver surfing equipment to someplace in south England). So there had never been any question with the board of trustees that Neville was in any way incapable of running the company.

Heck, they were doing better _now_ than they had ever done before.

The last Neville had heard from his former boss, Thorne had relocated to the Australian bush, as far away from the Reed residence in south England as he could humanly get without going off-world, and was now running his own walking company in the Outback. Some weird Aussie-sounding name to cover up the fact he was ex-Oxford.

Neville leaned back in his chair and smiled.

Yep, life was good and getting better every day.

In fact, if he was the kind of man prone to revenge on former ex-bosses, right about now he'd be wondering if the newly married Commander Malcolm Reed fancied a honeymoon Down Under...

Big 'if', though...


End file.
